Blightlore: Cadis Trilogy, #2

By Krista Walsh

When Venn Connell set out from Andvell a month ago, her intentions were simple: solve a mystery, avoid starting a war, and have some fun in the process.

After uncovering the secrets lurking within the Margolan palace, her adventure takes a darker path. War is no longer a question of if but of when, and the enemy is a greater nightmare than she could have imagined.

Torn between protecting her family and saving her country, forced to take on the role of leader she has tried so hard to avoid, Venn must decide her priorities before the mystery of the Cadis warriors consumes everything she cares for most. 

A follow-up to the Meratis Trilogy, the Cadis Trilogy follows Venn Connell, the sassy, blade-wielding assassin whose sharp tongue and love for adventure get her in no end of trouble. When a simple quest rolls into more action than she expects, the woman who swore never to grow attached to anyone must trust in her friends to overcome old spells, demons, and a magical war that could destroy her world

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven's Quill Press
• Release date: Nov 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519921871

Book preview

Chapter One

Venn Connell jolted out of a deep sleep. Her skin prickled in a cold sweat with the memory of flames licking closer to her feet, catching the hems of her trousers. Her heart thrummed against her ribs, trapped in the panic of the late-night attack.

A cool midnight breeze tickled the back of her neck and raised goosebumps down her spine. She sat up and ducked her head between her knees, giving her body a chance to catch up to her mind. The attack had been over a week ago. She had not seen any sign of those soldiers in their unearthly blood-red armour since then. For tonight, she was safe.

Silently repeating the mantra, her breathing gradually slowed and the trembling in her fingers eased. She wiped the dampness from her face and stared around the quiet camp, appreciating the serenity.

The campfire had burned down to glowing embers, tendrils of smoke drifting lazily towards the full moon. In the soft light she made out four lumps around the fire pit – three humans burrowed under their travel-worn blankets and one massive grizzly bear, Frey, who had chosen to sleep close enough to Venn that she felt the heat emanating from his metal-plated skeleton.

Can’t sleep either? Remy Herrigan’s voice cut through the calm, taking Venn by surprise. The blood rushing in her ears had masked Remy’s lack of snores.

Venn straightened her legs and reached for her toes, enjoying the pops along her spine. I don’t think that’s a valid question anymore. I’m starting to doubt I’ll ever sleep again.

Remy sat up, pushed her blanket to her feet, and beat her shirt against her chest. Beneath the breeze, the humidity and summer heat had followed them across Margolin, offering no reprieve even after the sun went down. Sounds about right. I keep hearing things move in the woods and think it’s those soldiers catching up to us, or Brannagh doing his Meratis-jumping thing. When did we end up so paranoid?

Venn snorted a laugh and pushed her fingers through her short hair, grimacing at the oily texture. A week on the road, trying to get away from the Margolan capital without attracting attention, hadn’t left much time for proper hygiene. She longed for some breathing room to dunk her head in a clean river.

The thought of the water they’d passed on their journey made her stomach turn. The rivers and lakes had become more sludge than liquid, choked with the same rot that stretched across the capital. The blight followed them as they rode, the once-fertile fields wilting and drying out over the course of a single day. Venn kept hoping they’d get ahead of it in time to offer a warning to any passing villagers, but so far luck hadn’t ridden with them.

I can’t help but feel a little responsible, she said, adopting a sarcastic tone to keep the conversation from sliding into despair. But to be fair, when I said I wanted to ride out and have some fun, this isn’t what I had in mind.

Remy chuckled. I don’t think anyone here blames you. Not for causing the whole mess, anyway. For us being in the middle of it… She allowed the sentence to trail off, bobbing her head back and forth in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

Venn gave a half-shrug, conceding her friend’s point. If not for her, they would be watching this storm come in from the safety of Feldall’s Keep, too focused on keeping bandits off the road to notice the approaching war.

But if we weren’t in the middle of it, how would we know what we have to prepare for? she countered. I don’t like being broadsided. At least this way we have time to spread the word and give everyone a fighting chance.

Remy’s teasing smile faded into something more rueful. Hopefully it’s enough.

Her concerned gaze drifted towards one of the sleeping forms, and Venn’s heart clenched.

He’ll make it, she said. I don’t intend to give him a choice in that.

I don’t know if your stubbornness will help this time, Venn. He needs to get home. Denial will only carry either of you so far.

Venn knew she was right. Just over a week ago, William Stanwell had been stabbed in the abdomen during a riot in the market. The other sleeping lump, the Margolan soldier Thom Foley, had stitched him up and declared him out of danger. Two days later Will had been stabbed again in the same place, this time by Venn in an effort to free him from the demon that had taken over his body. It had been a busy couple of days. Without any time to recover from his injuries before the strange red-clad soldiers attacked, they’d hauled Will onto his horse and fled from the capital. Up to then he’d managed to hold his own, but Venn saw how flushed he’d become. It pained her to see him so short of breath and slow to move. He refused to let anyone take a look at the wound, preferring to apply his own salves and bandages, and that made her worry all the more.

She forced an exhale and rubbed the back of her neck. I’d try my luck again to convince him to return to the Keep, but at this point it doesn’t matter. If we can’t find a way to cross the border, none of us are going anywhere.

Frey rolled in his sleep, and she reached out to trail her fingers through his coarse fur. At her touch, the bear started, fully awake, and shifted so his nose pressed against her knee. Venn knew she should be braced for him to snap and take a chunk out of her leg, but after three weeks of his presence, she couldn’t bring herself to fear him.

Thom says we should reach the gates tomorrow, Remy said, her voice tight with effort, although when Venn looked up her expression appeared neutral. "Have any ideas in that sneaky mind of yours?

Venn grimaced. Not this time. Or at least not yet. We lucked out leaving the capital, but I don’t think these guards will be as quick to accept a few lies and Thom’s rank. The border’s been closed a week now, so we’ll need to get clever. Hopefully inspiration strikes one of us in the next couple of hours.

And you’re set on going to Cordelay?

Venn detected an argumentative note to Remy’s question. Unless you have a better suggestion? Lewyn was adamant we go — aren’t you curious to find out why?

Remy didn’t get a chance to voice her opinion before Will interrupted them with a cough. He rolled onto his side, groaned, and fell back, the healing wound on his side still not allowing him the freedom to move as he wished. The two women waited to see if he would wake up, but his breathing deepened with renewed sleep, and Venn let out a slow breath. The man needed as much rest as he could get.

We should make another go of it ourselves, I guess, Remy suggested, watching him.

Venn grunted, doubted it would be worth the attempt, and wondered if she should press the issue with Remy about her thoughts on Cordelay. But when Remy flashed her a smile and said, Race you to the snores, she couldn’t help but laugh, and her shoulders relaxed. For the moment, they were safe. She could afford to close her eyes a few more minutes.

She stretched out on her blanket and stared at the stars overhead until the patterns began to swirl in her vision, guiding her to sleep.

***

When Venn woke the next morning, the sun was up and everyone had got a head start around her. With a muffled groan, she rolled onto her side and jerked away from the rough nose poking her in the eye. Frey snorted in her face, his stale breath enough to jar her into wakefulness as she pushed his head away with a laugh.

You’re finally awake. I thought we’d have to leave without you, Thom joked.

Venn glared at him through her non-watering eye, watching him roll his blanket into a tight bundle before stuffing it into his pack. Behind him, Remy packed the horses, humming a children’s song to herself.

Will sat on his knees, his back to the camp. He’d stripped off his shirt to complete his morning routine of cleaning and re-bandaging his injury, and from where she sat, Venn saw a red tinge to his skin creeping around his side. He finished wrapping the cotton and gave her a forced smile when he turned around to find her staring. She tried to return the gesture, but found it difficult to be sincere with the worry clawing at her stomach.

Convincing herself to get up, she rolled to her knees and packed up her meagre belongings, anxious to get started now that they were so close to leaving blight-ridden Margolin. She had no delusions that everything would be bimmelberries and cream when they crossed the border, but at least they’d be out of reach of the paranoid and terrified guards.

Not their fault, she reminded herself. Getting dosed with centipede venom is enough to make a monster out of anyone.

Over a week ago, she and Will had crashed in on the nest of human-sized centipedes being bred for the noxious goo they emitted. In a stretch of hours that promised a lifetime of nightmares, they had killed as many as they came across and set the entire nest alight, catching most of the creatures within. But their purge had come too late to prevent extensive damage to the soldiers’ minds and to that of Margolin’s queen, Rhoda. Venn hoped that without the daily dose of poison some people would regain their senses, but her expectations weren’t high. So far her trip had been nothing like she’d planned or wanted, and she saw no reason why it should start now.

At a jab of pain, she jerked her hand out of her pack and raised her finger to her lips, tasting blood.

You all right? Thom asked from across the camp.

Fine, she replied, her brow furrowed in confusion. Just a parchment cut, I think.

She couldn’t remember bringing any parchment with her — Will kept all their required documents together with his things — but since running out of Lewyn Kell’s cottage the night of the attack, she hadn’t gone through her belongings with any great scrutiny. Rummaging through her dirty clothes, she found a small slip of curled parchment tucked into a cranny along the leather seam. Tugging it out so as not to tear any words, she smoothed it on her knee.

The nift is waiting in the cabin. Better join me soon. FL.

The message did nothing to quench Venn’s curiosity. She didn’t recognise the handwriting, and the words may as well have been in another language. But it had found its way into her pack somehow.

I don’t suppose any of you dropped this note in with my things? she asked the others, and read the message aloud.

You getting rendezvous proposals now? Will asked, his eyebrow quirked.

If it’s a letter of seduction, the guy only knows me half as well as he should, she replied, running her fingers over the ink. The waiting alcohol is a great starting point, but it’d help to know who he is and where he wants me to meet him.

First I’m hearing about it, said Remy.

Thom shook his head. I have no idea what it might mean.

Venn leaned forward on her hands to pass the paper to Will. You’re the one for puzzles. I’m sure you’ll have more luck than anyone else figuring this out.

Remy dealt out their breakfast rations, and as they settled into the cold meal, they shifted the discussion to their plans for the border.

Will pulled a map from his pack and spread it out over the ground between him and Thom.

We should reach the gates by noon, Thom said, running his finger over their route. I don’t know the men at this post, most of them will have been pulled from the southern towns, but I might be able to talk them into letting us through.

Because you’re so charming? Venn asked, her tone skeptical.

Thom flashed a grin, his white teeth contrasting with his black skin under the morning sunlight. His sharp green eyes crinkled in the corners, and Venn caught Remy smiling in response. I won’t deny that has something to do with it, but I thought we might take advantage of the fact I’m from the capital. This far south, news might not reach the units as quickly as at some of the northern posts. If I tell them the Captain of the queensguard ordered me to escort you to Cordelay, they might believe me.

Remy’s mouth contorted and she shifted on her feet at the mention of them crossing into the destroyed country, her birthplace. Venn recognised the symptoms of her friend’s discomfort, but without saying anything to explain her reaction, Remy cleared her expression and focused on picking dried fruit from the bag in her lap.

It’s worth a try, said Will. We don’t want to fight our way out.

Venn grinned. No? I think it would be a great way to wake ourselves up. It’s been a week since we’ve had to fight anything stronger than a rabbit, and that scrawny thing didn’t require much effort. But her attempt at levity fell flat as the burden of their struggles over the last few weeks wriggled on her shoulders, refusing to let her regain her balance or find her stride. Yet for a change I agree with you, Will. No more of those soldiers should have to die.

Not when they have no idea what they’re doing, said Remy.

Thom nodded his agreement, and a silence fell over the group. Venn pushed aside the wave of grief over everything that had passed and rose to her feet, scattering the few crumbs of her breakfast for the animals to grab, hoping it would keep some of them from starving before they had a chance to escape the blighted region.

Well then, Foley of the Silver Tongue, I wish you luck. Let us know what you need us to do and we’ll follow your orders. She gave him a wink. I won’t even put up much of a fuss.

Chapter Two

With breakfast done and no other excuse to delay their attempt to cross the border, the preparations to ride out went quickly. Thom gathered up the maps to hand back to Will, and then grabbed his pack and headed towards his piebald, Gio, while Remy stamped out the fire, spreading the ashes around the dry earth. Her chestnut mare, Shalla, danced over the ground in her impatience to move. None of the horses were at ease in this territory, and Venn couldn’t blame them. More than once on their trip, she’d spotted long dark shapes skittering in the distance and knew those centipedes weren’t as far away as she’d like them to be. She and Will had destroyed the belly of the nest, but she had no idea how far those underground tunnels stretched.

She shuddered at the thought of the giant insects, remembering the way they’d stared at her with their faceted black eyes and reached for her with snaky antennae. They would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life if she didn’t find a way to get rid of every last one of them.

Corsa, her white stallion, nudged her shoulder to get her attention, and Venn pulled herself out of her dark reveries, stroking his nose and easing the bit between his teeth.

You’re holding up well, boy, she said. I was proud of you before, but you continue to outdo yourself. Just a little while longer and you can consider yourself retired. The horse snorted and tossed his head, making Venn laugh. I hear you, buddy. That sounds awful to me, too.

Beside her, Remy frowned at Shalla’s bridle, tension scrunching up the scar that stretched from her left eye to ear.

I bet you and Thom are looking forward to getting home, Venn said. Your ass must be a whole collection of bruises by now.

Having only had time to tack up Corsa and Hollis, Will’s charcoal stallion, before they rode out from Lewyn’s burning cottage, Remy and Thom had been forced to ride bareback, which they’d done with impressive forbearance.

When Remy didn’t acknowledge Venn’s question, she nudged her shoulder. Hey. Everything okay?

She hoped the uncomfortable ride was the extent of Remy’s displeasure, but thinking of her friend’s reactions last night and that morning to the mention of their destination, suspected there might be more to it. Remy had said nothing to oppose their plan, but the closer they got to the border, the more out of sorts she behaved.

Fine, she said, but the sharp reply did nothing but cause Venn to raise an eyebrow. When she saw she wouldn’t get away with not answering, Remy rested her hands on Shalla’s neck and asked, Why do we have to go to Cordelay?

Venn blinked and shifted her feet to face the scout. Beneath the simple curiosity of the question, she heard a tremor of emotion that sounded like anger.

Lewyn said —

Said what? Remy’s grip on her restraint slipped. What did he tell you, Venn? Because what you’ve shared means nothing to me. He wants us to forget about going home to give your family a much-needed warning about a gods-be-damned war and instead ride to an empty shell of a country. To do what? Sightsee? Laugh at the poor people who have nothing left? Get a glimpse of what Andvell has to look forward to if we fail?

Venn had known the scout for over two years, watched her battle red soldiers and bandits with bravery and calmness. They had been trapped on the road together for over a month, stuck in close proximity without getting sick of each other or butting heads. After thinking she’d seen all the sides of Remy Herrigan there were to see, this sudden lashing out took Venn aback. Her jaw dropped, and she needed a moment to process the unexpected hostility before replying.

He wouldn’t have sent us on this insane mission if he didn’t think it was important.

She kept her voice calm, trying to navigate the battlefield without drawing enemy fire, but the lines around the scout’s eyes and mouth grew harder, and she shook her head before Venn finished speaking.

It’s a stupid idea and without a better reason, I won’t go. She reached for her twine bracelet and twisted it around her wrist. The skin underneath was chafed to the point of bleeding, something Venn hadn’t noticed in the days previous.

Nodding slowly, she gave herself time to think. Uncomfortable around any sign of emotion, she felt unequipped for the task of calming her friend down without coming off as condescending or antagonising. She looked to Will and Thom for support, but the men were lost in their own discussion as they tacked their mounts and couldn’t help her out of the quagmire.

Seeing no other way to proceed, she replied, All right, that’s fine. After we cross the border, you can take the road to the Keep and deliver our report to Jasmine. At least we’ll know she has enough information to start preparing the troops.

I think you should consider going home, too.

Venn opened her mouth to argue, but Remy cut her off. If going to Cordelay was really so important, Kell could have told you why. He didn’t. You told us he liked to mess with you — what if that’s what this is? What if he wanted to delay you from bringing our warning to Lady Feldall so that you would waste time going to Cordelay, the war would start without your family having time to prepare, and you would be forced to live on your own again, the way he wanted you to.

Venn’s feet froze to the ground, stunned by her friend’s harsh analysis of her old mentor. She would be the first person to call Lewyn an asshole in life, but to go so far as to keep her away from her family so the war would take them unawares? What purpose would that serve? The last she had seen of Lewyn, he’d stood in the flames while his cottage burned around him. As far as she knew, he hadn’t made it out. As a child training to be an assassin under his guidance, she’d hated the man with all the passion of her young soul. He had been her greatest tormentor, but he’d also kept her alive, taught her how to survive and to become the best at her craft, and her time as a guest at his cottage had shown her a side of him that hinted at more than a curmudgeonly murderer. Maybe not enough to forgive him for all the shit he’d put her through, but enough to make her regret his death.

It had been Remy who first suggested that Lewyn’s intentions might be kind, that he wanted what he thought best for Venn. The fact that she now wanted to warp her thinking into old, hateful patterns allowed Venn to see just how perturbed her friend had become about their trip.

He wouldn’t do that, she said.

Remy’s eyes narrowed, her scar pulling taut. "Are you sure about that? You always told me never to trust anyone, but you’re going to trust him? Trust your own gut, Venn. What does it tell you? To run into the unknown on the off-chance you’ll find answers or to go where you know you’re needed? When Venn didn’t answer, she continued, And think about Will. You know he won’t go anywhere without you. Are you really willing to let him risk his life on the road for this mystery? If we go home now, he can be healed. We can work out our next steps and go from there. A week’s delay and none of this futile wandering. You’re supposed to be leading us, but right now I’d say you were doing a piss-poor job of getting your priorities straight."

The accusation hit Venn like a slap in the face. Although she knew the venom came from somewhere deeper than any anger towards her, knowing didn’t take the sting out of Remy’s words. And was she wrong? For weeks Will had tried hiding his pain to keep up with the others and the effort had taken its toll on him, yet she’d done nothing to force the issue. If he admitted he couldn’t go on, she would change her mind in a heartbeat to get him home. But she couldn’t afford to change her mind. She needed answers. Not just for herself, but for her country and her family.

When does the sake of one person — of one family — outweigh the lives of millions?

Remy hadn’t seen the growing enemy army as Venn had. Caught in a Meratis-jumping trip with Brannagh, the new Captain of the Margolan queensguard, Venn had travelled to the fields of Orland and seen first-hand what would march towards Andvell when it reached full strength. Hundreds of those red-clad soldiers, along with some of the most advanced weaponry she’d ever laid eyes on. Margolin’s first counsellor, Guy Danos, had been clever in his strategising, keeping his war preparations hidden from Andvell by hosting them in an allied country instead of his own, and Venn wanted nothing more than to see the look on his face when he found out all his well-laid plans had drowned in rat piss.

The decision to follow Lewyn’s directions hadn’t come easily, and Venn felt a flare of resentment that Remy seemed to believe her choice a whim of the moment. She’d argued with Lewyn at the time, and had gone back and forth in her mind a hundred times since riding away from the burning cottage about what the right path might be. But Lewyn had told her that to go to Cordelay would be to get a head start on Danos, and although he hadn’t told her more than that, she felt she had to take the chance.

In spite of her irritation over Remy’s second-guessing, she just didn’t know if she was willing to pay the cost of her friendship and Will’s life to do it.

The old man was right. I’m getting too gods-be-damned soft.

Her stomach twisted with the weight of the decision, but Remy’s disapproval tipped her over the other edge.

Going home doesn’t mean we can’t set out again later, she tried telling herself. And this way, I can make sure my family is safe and prepared before I head back into gods know what.

With a slow exhale, she tapped the side of her thumb against the saddle. All right, Rem, we’ll do it your way. Once we cross the border, we’ll head west and go home.

Remy let out a shaky breath, and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. Thank you.

Venn nodded, but made no other reply, not sure anything she said would come out without a trace of resentment for being made to choose. Guiding Corsa towards Will to get some distance from her friend, she mounted up and announced, Change of plans. Remy and I discussed it, and we’re going to head home before going to Cordelay.

Will’s eyes widened.

Why? he asked, at the same time Thom asked, Are you sure?

Venn cleared her throat and shifted in the saddle, taking a moment to ensure her tone came out neutral. Because even if we reached Cordelay ahead of schedule, none of us are in a shape to fight. We need a chance to heal and sort out everything we’ve learned. And Will, if you don’t get someone to see about your injury, I’m afraid our team will be down to three.

He flushed and bowed his head, but didn’t argue the point. Venn didn’t enjoy putting him on the spot, but told herself it was for the benefit of the team.

Once we cross the border, it’ll take us six days to reach the Keep, she continued. Five if we up the pace. I think it’s worth making the extra push to give Jax and Brady more time to send word to the capital and Addergrove.

At her easy mention of her connection with Andvellian royalty, Thom blew out a breath and shook his head. It had been a few days since Venn revealed that Andvell’s princess was married to the closest thing she had to a brother, but he still appeared to have a difficult time wrapping his head around the relationship.

Will continued to watch her, glancing once or twice in Remy’s direction, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Remy focused her gaze on Shalla’s ears, staying out of the conversation, and with a nod, Venn guided Corsa towards the road.

***

Thom had plotted their route well, and as the sun reached its apex, its heavy rays beating down on the back of Venn’s neck until her skin sizzled, the border appeared ahead of them. Her chest tightened as her heart raced, and she curled her fingers around Corsa’s reins to keep the leather from sliding out between sweaty fingers.

You’re up, she said to Thom, falling back to let him lead. Frey disappeared from her side to find his own way across the border, and Venn wished they all had his convenient ability to camouflage his way past any potential trouble.

Thom pressed his lips into a thin line and straightened his shoulders, adopting a formal posture. Keeping his gaze square ahead, he rode up to the gates and drew to a halt before the guards came out and ordered them to stop.

I am Sergeant Thom Foley of the queensguard, he called in his natural Margolan tongue. Who should I speak with in regard to our beloved Queen Rhoda’s business?

The gate remained still at his greeting, but before he had time to raise his voice again, a man emerged from the guardroom and approached at a march, stopping well out of reach of their swords.

Sergeant Foley, I’m Francis Netti, master corporal and commander here.

The man didn’t spare a glance for the other riders, and Venn took the opportunity to observe him. Like the many other guards she’d seen in Margolin, he shared the same sleepless, haunted look brought on by the centipede poison. If the soldiers at this outpost had been dosed with the same venom-in-the-wine system used on the guards in the capital, Venn had to give Danos and Brannagh credit for being thorough and consistent across the country.

Do you have your papers?

Thom reached into his pack and pulled out his identification. Venn crossed her fingers that word of his desertion hadn’t spread so far so fast, holding her breath as she watched the guard approach to take what Thom offered him. His brow furrowed as he turned the documentation out of the glare of the sunlight to scan the name, but after a moment, he grunted his approval and handed it back.

Thank you, Sergeant. We can’t be too careful these days. With the borders closed, everyone has some story.

Thom smiled. Just doing your duty, Master Corporal. As you should be.

You mentioned the queen’s business? Do you have papers to that effect?

Thom frowned and rubbed his brow. In that, I’m afraid I’m unable to oblige. Have you heard many reports from the capital?

No, sir. We received word a little over a week ago that the borders were to be closed, but the reason was vague.

It’s not a good situation, soldier. We’ve heard rumours of war brewing in Andvell, and everyone in the capital is on high alert. He spoke the lie with such straight-faced confidence that Venn could have been convinced he meant it. They had practiced their story so thoroughly on the ride that if a rider from Andvell had met them on the road and told them Ansella had declared war, they wouldn’t have been surprised. I’m to escort these three across the border to Cordelay, given special dispensation by the queen for services rendered in bringing her the warning. She couldn’t trust anything written to paper, wanting to protect them from Andvellian officials looking to accuse them of treason. You understand?

Netti nodded, finally shifting his gaze from Thom to the others. When he reached Venn, she held his dark brown eyes, gauging how deep his uncertainty went. Thom outranked him, and he had the papers to prove it, but letting them pass would go against his written orders. She hated putting the man in such a difficult position, especially when she was sure his thoughts were addled with the horrors haunting him in his paranoid delusions, but hoped he would see it their way.

The pause stretched out longer than her patience tolerated, but after a while, Netti jerked his head in a nod and raised a hand to someone at the gate. Venn heard a click as the heavy