Eyes of Shining Gold: The Risharri Empire, #2

By Karen de Lange

The war between the Associated Sovereignties and Cera grows more bitter by the day.
Liam Colley, general of the Associated Sovereignties, fights alongside his men in a desperate attempt to turn the tide.
Over the border in Cera is Aleysa, the girl he rescued from poverty. Coerced into using her psychic gift in ways that do not sit easily with her conscience, she seeks any opportunity to escape the country.
Thousands of miles away, the Empress Cassaya fights for her life against an illness none of her healers can cure. If she dies, the Sovereignties will crumble.
None of them realise that another faction is about to enter the war. They call themselves the Crommenach, and they have just one aim - to stay alive, no matter what the cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen de Lange
• Release date: Jul 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781909778030

Karen de Lange

Karen de Lange is a bookworm and fantasy geek. She lives in North East England with her husband, who is remarkably accepting of her talking about her characters as though they were real, and her two cats, who don’t care what’s real and what’s not so long as the treats keep on coming.

Book preview

For my parents, for realising early on that living in the real world was never going to be one of my particular talents, and being OK with that.

The Nine Gods and Goddesses

Cadros - sky and light

Arandarta - death, war, fire and judgement

Damantia - earth, nature and all growing things

Navesh - the seas, rivers and oceans

Rosmenos - healing, fertility and youth

Sirona - age and wisdom

Sulerce - harvest, home and hearth

Ancellas - love, peace and friendship

Elwen - art, music and all created things

The Mercenary Girl

Mick crawled through the sucking mud to the top of the slope. It took twice as long as he had bargained for, slipping back one unpleasant foot for every two he gained. Above him rain rattled the broad leaves, channelling together into unavoidable waterfalls as it cascaded down to the ground. His front was caked in mud and his back was soaked through.

At the crest of the hill the mud and rain were joined by a sharp wind blowing straight into his face. He ducked his head and waited for Aidan to catch up.

‘All right, boss?’ The younger man, when he squelched up alongside Mick, wore a wide grin. ‘Lovely weather for it.’ His dark curls were plastered to his head and trickles of water ran down his face, dripping from the end of his nose and his chin. Mick would have made a sarcastic comment, but he suspected he looked just as bedraggled himself.

‘Aye,’ said Mick. He brushed water out of his eyes and pulled his binoculars from where he had tucked them inside his shirt to keep them dry. ‘With a bit of luck none of them’ll be keeping such a sharp lookout right now.’

It seemed he was right. There were men stationed at intervals around the camp in the clearing below them, but every one was huddled miserably in on himself, looking more at the ground than at the skyline. Mick still kept his head low as he scanned the collection of tents and temporary shelters.

‘Anything?’ The female voice above his head startled him. His elbows slipped and sent mud splattering up into his own face.

‘Do you have to do that?’ He wiped his cheek with his wet sleeve, uncertain whether he was removing the mud or just adding more.

‘Sorry,’ said Aleysa.

The only way he had of knowing where she stood was the fact that he felt an unconquerable inclination not to look behind him to his right. ‘You’re not sorry at all.’

With her beside him there wasn’t a chance that any of the lookouts would glance in their direction. Aleysa could almost go capering under their noses and their eyes would slide right off her. Mick pushed himself out of the mud with a groan.

‘Binoculars, please,’ said Aleysa.

He held them out in her general direction, not bothering to fight the don’t-look-at-me psychic field she was projecting. Of all his men he was the most susceptible to her power, and it wasn’t worth the headache it would bring to pretend otherwise.

‘What d’you see?’ asked Aidan. He still lay on his front in the mud, apparently as comfortable as if he were in his bunk.

‘Not much.’ Her voice had the faraway quality that meant her mind was somewhere else. It would be down in the Sovereignties camp, skipping from soldier to soldier as she hunted out any information that might be of use to them. ‘They’ve been camped here a fortnight, it’s not stopped raining once—’

‘I could’ve told them that,’ muttered Mick.

‘—senior officer in the camp is—oh, hello, it’s Espen Johansen.’

‘Really?’ In other circumstances Mick’s interest would have made him turn towards her.

‘Yes. His orders are to stay put and await further instructions.’

Mick swore. ‘Is there anyone around here who’s not awaiting further orders? I’m getting mighty sick of hearing that tune.’

The binoculars appeared in his eye-line and he took them.

‘I’ve told you and I’ve told the Commander,’ said Aleysa. ‘Get me into the Army of the Associated Sovereignties headquarters at Menos, or the Royal Quarter in Lyvain, and I’ll find out anything she wants to know.’

‘Aye,’ said Mick. ‘But will you tell her after you’ve found it out?’

Aleysa’s dry laugh was the only reply he got.

‘All right, let’s get going.’

Even away from the brow of the hill Mick and Aidan walked furtively, ducking from cover to cover beneath the trees. Mick didn’t need to be able to look at Aleysa to know that she walked upright and straight, her arms swinging by her sides as though she were sauntering down a city street on a sunny afternoon, not through an enemy-occupied forest in a downpour. He gritted his teeth and carried on, batting aside the low branches that clutched at his hair.

Shelter was a dugout bunker an hour’s walk away, but they were already wet enough that the distance made no difference. Mick slid his sodden jacket off as he ducked through the low entrance. Heat hit him full in the face.

‘Bloody hell, but it’s warm in here.’

Lorcan looked up from tending the stove. ‘I thought you’d need it after out there, boss.’

Steam began rising from Aidan’s shoulders as he stepped in behind Mick. ‘Too damn right,’ he said. ‘Good call.’

Aleysa entered last, finally dropping her psychic protection once she was away from any prying eyes. Mick looked her up and down, noting that her mud-splashed trousers barely reached the top of her boots.

‘You need new clothes, lass,’ he said. ‘Again.’ Now fourteen years old, the youngest member of his team had added six inches to her height in the last six months alone. The top of her head came to his chin now, and he had a feeling that she wasn’t nearly done with growing.

Aleysa ran a hand over her tightly braided hair, scattering droplets behind her. ‘Yes, but it will have to wait, won’t it? We’ll be back in Arraven next week. That’ll be soon enough.’

Lorcan tore open a pack of dried noodles and emptied it into the pan above the fire. ‘Find anything?’

‘Same old, same old,’ said Aidan. ‘All waiting for orders.’

‘Everyone’s waiting for something,’ said Mick. ‘I’m just waiting for this bloody rain to stop.’

‘It’s the time of year,’ said Aleysa. ‘Won’t stop for days.’

‘Yes, thank you, oh bright ray of sunshine.’ He glared at her and she stuck her tongue out in return.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Lorcan stirred the pan as the contents began to bubble, smelling edible if not entirely appetising. Aidan laid out four bowls ready for the food.

Another crash of thunder sounded, much closer this time. Mick and Aidan stared at each other. Lorcan looked up from the pan.

‘That weren’t thunder,’ said Aidan.

‘Aleysa?’ asked Mick.

‘On it.’ The faraway look crossed her face, and her gaze drifted to a high corner of the shelter.

The next boom was so loud that Mick felt the vibration in his breastbone.

Aleysa’s eyes snapped back into focus. ‘No time to explain. Run.’

Mick had long ago put into place the protocols for dealing with an emergency exit, and he trusted Aleysa’s judgement as to when one was necessary. He asked no questions; therefore neither did Aidan or Lorcan as they bundled out of the shelter, not even bothering to remove the pan from the heat or pick up their jackets.

Aleysa headed west, away from the Sovereignties camp they had scouted earlier. Mick followed her and the other two men followed him. Explosions chased them. He took all his cues from her as they fled; apparently there was no need for silence, or at least it was not as important as speed. They crashed through the undergrowth, sliding on the muddy ground. Aleysa’s slim frame allowed her to stay ahead of the men even when their longer legs would have given them the advantage. She slipped between close-set tree trunks and paid no heed to low-hanging branches that forced them to duck.

Talk to me, lass, Mick thought. Help me out here.

It seemed she was not listening, because no response came. She led them on, brambles catching at their hair and clothes, until a sudden steep slope proved the undoing of all four of them. Mick heard Aleysa’s yelp as she vanished down it but didn’t have the chance to pull up himself or signal to Aidan and Lorcan.

When next he could think, all four of them were lying on the ground, as battered as though they had been through a meat-grinder, and plastered with mud. Behind them, explosions still boomed into the sky like thunder, but they had receded to a less deafening distance.

Mick wiped the mud away from his eyes and looked around. Aidan was shaking his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. Lorcan was staring open-mouthed at Aleysa. ‘What the fuck was that?’ he asked.

Aleysa knew that her answer was due to her commanding officer. She met Mick’s gaze and a wave of sick fear rushed over him. It was her emotion, projected on to him in a moment of weakness on her part, but that barely made it any easier to feel.

‘That,’ she said, ‘was a battle mage.’

He would have laughed had he ever known Aleysa to tease. ‘The Sovereignties have a battle mage now? Oh, hell.’ He looked at the stormy sky. ‘We are fucked.’

***

‘No.’ Commander Salastrelle stood tall behind her desk, her hands linked behind her back. ‘We have a battle mage. Several, as it happens. As we have had for quite some little while now. A fact of which you ought to be well aware.’

Mick slouched in the chair in front of her. It was a tremendous breach of protocol to sit when she stood, but he was too exhausted to care. A week of hiking cross-country had seen to that. A week in the same clothes they had been wearing when they fled the shelter, cold and covered in mud, until they had reached somewhere the Ceran military could pick them up. Three baths later he felt moderately clean again, though Salastrelle had summoned him to her office before he had a chance to shave. So on top of the tiredness and the knowledge that he was not presentable to polite society, he had to sit and be harangued by Salastrelle for leaving his post to flee a battle mage who hadn’t even been—according to her—working for the enemy.

‘He hit our shelter,’ said Mick. ‘We went back to see if we could get supplies. Nothing there but a smoking crater.’

Salastrelle clicked her fingers and Mick heard movement behind him, though he would have sworn that the door didn’t open. He looked over his shoulder to find a young man standing there. He had mouse-brown hair cut to the level of his chin and a narrow mouth drawn into a smirk. Mick looked him up and down with deliberate rudeness, although he already suspected who the man was, before turning back to Salastrelle with one raised eyebrow.

‘This is Garvan,’ said Salastrelle. ‘He is the battle mage in question. One of our best.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Mick turned back to Garvan. ‘You nearly killed us, mate.’

‘My apologies,’ said Garvan, though the smirk never left his lips and there wasn’t a drop of sincerity in his low voice.

‘You were further in amongst the Sovereignties camps than you were supposed to be,’ said Salastrelle. ‘We had no reason to believe you had gone in so far.’

‘And we’d not been told it might be dangerous!’ Mick glared at her but made no move to stand, not even to make his point. ‘What’s the use of my having Aleysa with me if you won’t even use her to tell us what we need to know?’

He expected a sharp and furious response, but instead his question hung in the air for several seconds. Salastrelle flicked one finger at Garvan and this time Mick heard the door open and close as the battle mage left the room. When Salastrelle spoke her voice was clipped and quiet.

‘Miss Sirona has now successfully shielded her own mind to the extent that is nigh on impossible to communicate unscheduled messages to her, or anyone around her. Or even to locate you at distance, for that matter.’

Mick stared at her. What’s the point of a psychic who’s so good she blocks off her own power to protect herself? ‘Does she know?’

‘I doubt it. It’s very recent. I was planning to talk to her about it as soon as you got back.’

‘We’re back,’ Mick pointed out. ‘Though we very nearly weren’t. Ever.’

‘I take your point, Donohue. I took it the moment Miss Sirona requested an emergency pick-up for the four of you.’

It was the closest he was going to get to an actual apology. He let the matter go—apart from making a mental note to charge more the next time Salastrelle hired him to go scouting Sovereignties camps. ‘I hope you killed enough of them to make it worthwhile.’

She responded with a bright smile. ‘Killed? Not a one, Donohue. Our man was under strict instruction to avoid the actual camps. But put the fear of all the gods into them? Oh, yes. Yes indeed.’

***

The streets in this part of Arraven were wide and leafy. So very respectable, mused Mick as he strolled along, his hands in his pockets and a well-deserved cigarette in his mouth. Part of him would prefer a neighbourhood where a mugger with a knife could leap out at any moment, just so he might have the satisfaction of punching someone in the face. It would help to relieve some of his frustration, but such an occurrence seemed unlikely in these genteel surroundings.

He came to a house set back from the road. A high wall gave it privacy; he imagined that when it was built it would have been the home of some wealthy merchant or minor lord. Now it was the house of Lanette Gosselin, formerly prisoner of war of the Associated Sovereignties and now, thanks to Mick, returned home to Cera. Out of gratitude for bringing her most of the way across the continent, she let him use her spacious house as a base for operations when he was in Arraven. It was exponentially better than the run-down guest-house that had been his previous headquarters. The result was a house in a state of constant tension between friendly bustle and military precision. A row of polished boots sat just inside the front door, beside a basket of mud-covered vegetables.

Mick flicked the remains of his cigarette behind him, back out on to the path. He stepped around the boots and the vegetables and went through into the kitchen, passing a tureen of bubbling soup on the stove, then on into the dining room. Lanette and Aleysa were in there, as he had expected, heads bent over a textbook.

He threw himself into a chair. ‘What’s the subject?’

Lanette looked up, her thin face stern. ‘History,’ she said. ‘Of the Ceran variety. It’s not going well.’

Aleysa also looked up, her plaintive expression just as much in contrast to Lanette’s as her russet skin was to the older woman’s snowy complexion. ‘It’s all so different,’ she complained. ‘It contradicts everything I knew already.’

‘That’s because you were taught Sovereignties history,’ said Lanette. ‘It’s a pack of lies, all of it.’

‘Well, someone’s lying,’ muttered Aleysa, bending her head back down to read. ‘One person says Cera was evil, then another says Emperor Aled was, and another says no it was really Empress Gwyneira who was horrid. I wish I could read books’ minds. Then I could tell you who it actually was.’

Mick shook his head. ‘Dead people, dead things. It’s not important right now.’ Lanette looked to be on the verge of objecting to his dismissal, but he forestalled her with a raised hand. ‘I’ve just come from the Commander.’

‘Oh?’ Aleysa’s head snapped back up again, her eyes alight with an interest that had been completely absent when the subject in hand had been historical. ‘What did she say?’

Mick gestured to his temple, a motion they had long ago established as an invitation to look for herself. He knew that he was only deluding himself if he thought he still had any dark secrets he was keeping from her.

There was a pause—a few seconds, at most—while Aleysa plundered Mick’s memories of the last couple of hours and internalised them as well as if they were her own. He knew when she was done because she covered her mouth with both hands in horror.

‘What?’ Lanette looked from Aleysa to Mick and back again.

‘I strengthened our protection,’ whispered Aleysa through her fingers. ‘So nobody could get through and manipulate us. But Commander Salastrelle couldn’t even get a message through.’ She dropped her hands to her chest. ‘I nearly got us all killed.’

‘Hold on,’ said Lanette. ‘You can set a protection around your mind that not even the Commander can penetrate?’

Mick answered on Aleysa’s behalf. ‘It’s fair to say that our lass can do a lot that Salastrelle can’t.’

‘Oh.’ Lanette frowned and looked to Aleysa for confirmation.

Aleysa nodded. ‘You don’t want to believe all of Salastrelle’s propaganda about herself.’ She smiled. ‘But don’t worry, because apparently at the moment she has no idea what you’re saying or thinking about her.’

‘Enough. I’m going to look at the soup.’ Lanette stood and left through the door into the kitchen.

‘Another thing,’ said Mick. ‘We’ve got another job, but you’re not on the team.’

‘I understand.’ Aleysa looked at the table, her lower lip thrust out unhappily.

‘Salastrelle wants some intensive training with you, starting tomorrow.’

‘Only because she wants to know how I did it,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘She’ll pretend she’s teaching me, but she’ll pick and pick until she’s worked it out.’

Mick sat forward to catch her eye. ‘I know. But you have to go. And it’s only another scouting job we’ve got. Rain, mud, battle mages trying to kill us by mistake. You know the drill.’

Aleysa’s mouth twisted. ‘I’d rather be there than with Salastrelle.’

‘I know.’ He did understand, and he knew that she knew he understood. ‘But we must be good lads and lasses, and do what we’re told for the time being. Yes?’

‘Yes,’ she sighed.

***

It wasn’t raining. That was a good thing. There was no mud, and that was a fantastic thing. Commander Salastrelle had guaranteed that there were no battle mages within a hundred miles and that, as far as Mick was concerned, was the best thing of all.

‘Still bloody freezing,’ he muttered, pulling his coat closer around himself. The motion made the branch creak threateningly beneath him. I started revolutions in two countries, he thought. One of them wasn’t even on purpose. And now I’m sitting in a tree half way up a mountainside, waiting for an enemy company which may or may not even be coming this way. The branch creaked again. At which point I can confound them all by falling on their heads.

He considered climbing down, but he knew there was no other vantage point from where he could see all the way down into the ravine below him. The tree had already been a last resort.

They won’t even come this way. Aidan and Lorcan were watching the two most likely routes, further east. The only reason he was watching the ravine was the sure knowledge that, if he did not, this would be the route they would choose.

A rustle of movement far below him caught his attention. He lifted his binoculars in time to catch the tail end of a fox disappearing into its den. With a sigh he let the binoculars drop to hang from their strap around his neck.

Mick. Aleysa’s voice in his mind was unmistakable.

What do you want? he responded. I’m supposed to be watching and you’re supposed to be doing... whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.

Never mind what I’m supposed to be doing. You’re wasting your time. The Sovereignties are going up past Lorcan’s post. He’s just spotted them. If you keep uphill as you approach you’ll be able to get a good look without them seeing you.

He tried not to give her the satisfaction of knowing his gratitude. Get back to whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing, he thought.

You’re welcome, Mick, she sent back to him, rather smugly, as he began to clamber out of the tree.

***

Aleysa broke the connection with Mick, or at least separated her immediate awareness from him. Some part of her remained with him, as it did with Aidan and Lorcan. If an emergency were to befall any of them she would know it immediately.

In the meantime she was glad to note that her face had not deviated from its carefully blank expression, perfect for receiving a lecture from Commander Salastrelle, who stood over her like a teacher over a naughty child. A lecture which, to Aleysa’s relief, seemed at last to be coming to a close.

Or perhaps already had come to a close. Salastrelle was watching her with raised eyebrows, as though some kind of response were required.

Aleysa nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said, in her best bored monotone. ‘I won’t increase my defences again without checking with you first.’ Unless I think it’s necessary, she added to herself.

‘Good.’ Salastrelle relaxed her military stance and sat opposite Aleysa. ‘Now, I would like to go through precisely what you did. I think it would be beneficial to you to understand it.’

You mean you want to understand it so you can stop me doing it again. Or is it so that you can do it yourself? Aleysa smiled serenely. ‘I don’t even know, really. I just messed around with my barriers until it seemed right.’

Salastrelle gripped the edge of her desk. ‘You just—messed around?’

‘Yes. It wasn’t hard.’ That was a lie of immense proportions. Pushing her barriers out beyond herself, to encompass all those around her, had been one of the hardest things she had ever done.

The Commander leaned back in her chair. ‘So,’ she said. ‘It shouldn’t be too hard for you to reverse it and do it again.’

I walked into that one, thought Aleysa. ‘I suppose not.’ I’ll show you the truth of it the day I die.

Dismantling the barriers was the work of less than a moment. Aleysa pushed them over faster than was sensible, determined not to let Salastrelle see their structure. When she was done, all that was left was what Aleysa thought of as her wall of thorns, protecting her own private thoughts from intrusion. Mick, Aidan and Lorcan were completely unprotected from the Ceran Commander. Aleysa clenched her fists, fingernails biting into her palms, and hoped they would be safe.

***

‘Just me.’ Mick spoke under his breath as he slid into Lorcan’s hiding place beneath a low hanging bush.

‘All right, boss?’ Lorcan shuffled up to make room for him.

‘Aye.’ Mick surveyed the scene. ‘Good spot here.’ Whether through luck or judgement, Lorcan had managed to choose a vantage point at the top of a particularly steep slope, where the Sovereignties commander had decided to give his heavily-laden men a brief rest. A hundred or so soldiers sat about in small groups, dressed in identical dark green camouflage uniforms, their packs beside them, swigging water from canteens.

Mick pressed his lips together. Being far enough away not to be heard meant that they could also not hear what the soldiers were saying. He toyed with the idea of wriggling forward through the undergrowth, but there were too many lookouts for his liking. They were still technically on Sovereignties territory, and Mick was the one who had no right to be there, but their commander was careful.

He raised his binoculars. ‘Who seems to be in charge?’

‘Off to the left,’ said Lorcan. ‘Tall guy. Think it’s him.’

The man wasn’t behaving like a typical Sovereignties commander, striding about amongst his men, making his presence felt. He stood outside the group, arms folded and back straight, his eyes quick and alert. He was unmistakeably in charge, though; Mick could not make out the precise details of the badge on his shoulder but it was some kind of large bird, signifying high rank.

Large bird? Mick tweaked the focus and the blur resolved into an eagle. He lifted the binoculars back to the man’s face.

‘Fuck me,’ he breathed. ‘That’s Liam Colley.’

***

Aleysa’s breath caught in her throat so sharply that she burst into a coughing fit. She doubled over in her chair, hacking, fighting for breath as her eyes watered.

Salastrelle pushed a glass of water into her hand. ‘Perhaps you should rest a while before we continue. You seem tired.’

If Salastrelle thought she was tired then she was doing well. She had spent the last half hour pretending to try and rebuild her barriers, alternating concentration with confusion and throwing in some consternation for good measure. The deception had taken something out of her, but not even close to what it would have done had she actually been trying. She had nearly fainted after the first time she had pushed her barriers out to cover those around her.

Aleysa took a few sips of the water to cover her expression while she sent desperate thoughts to Mick. How does he look? Does he look well?

There was a pause while Mick adjusted the binoculars