The Black Spirit: A Mountain Shadows Novel

By Laurie Rawlinson Evans

High Ambassador Akira Muro has shielded herself from personal connections her whole life. Due to her immense power, her own people feared her. Now, she is a dynamic warrior and diplomat on her final mission. Akira must face the deadly Mors, also known as the Black Death, and to do so, she is willing to risk everything. Her mission takes Akira and her team to the mountain pass guarded by the Protectorate of Mountain Shadows. There, she encounters the man who abandoned her for the protectorate: Kilronan. Akira has always guarded her heart as desperately as she guards the elemental forces she commands. Kilronan threatens her self-made shields. In order to protect her country, Akira accepts an alliance with Kilronan. Together, they will fight the dark invaders. First, Akira must learn to fight together with a new breed of warrior, and she must also learn to trust. As the Black Death nears, will Akira choose duty or the emotional, human life she has always denie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Nov 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483419398

Book preview

The

Black

Spirit

A Mountain

Shadows Novel

Laurie Rawlinson Evans

Copyright © 2014 Laurie Rawlinson Evans.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-1940-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-1938-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-1939-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014917875

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 10/22/2014

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgment

The Lost

The Black Spirit

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

Twenty-nine

Thirty

Thirty-one

Thirty-two

Thirty-three

Thirty-four

Thirty-five

Thirty-six

Thirty-seven

Thirty-eight

Thirty-nine

Forty

Forty-one

Forty-two

Forty-three

Forty-four

Forty-five

Forty-six

Epilogue

About the Author

Dedication

For my mother, Pat, who is always there for me.

And for my sons, Colin and Davis, who give me the world.

Acknowledgment

M y appreciation to Lulu Publishing Services for helping make a dream a reality; especially Zach N. who had the humor and perseverance to get me past the fear of taking the next step, Kevin K. and Cara L. who made the process go smoothly,, and Donavan G. for subtle support and easy conversations. Thanks to everyone else who contributed.

I don’t believe any book goes forward without the support of friends and family. I wish I could name you all. Thanks to the ladies who shared coffee, lunches, and the patience to read my short stories and celebrate any little thing. You all kept me going toward this goal, and two went above and beyond. Linda Brown Quimby, who has listened to my stories since we were kids, and patiently read and critiqued the first huge manuscript for this book. And Marcy Gregg, who also read the first version, cried over it, and gave me valuable insight. She encouraged, motivated, and shared wine on her front porch. Whenever I panicked or second-guessed myself, Marcy was there.

Most importantly, my thanks to my family; including brothers and in-laws. With special thanks to: My mother, Pat, who believed in me. I certainly couldn’t have done it without my husband, Terry, encouraging me. My sons, Davis and Colin, introduced me to Ninjas when they were very young and inspired me. They show me the potential of youth.

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The Lost

T he sound of the ocean drew him. Eleni had told him to stay under the trees near the big stone building before she went into the dark arch that loomed like the gaping mouth of a stone giant. He hadn’t meant to disobey his sister, but she’d been gone a long time—for a little boy. And the waves called him with a familiar, soothing roar that drowned the screams inside his head.

Paying no mind to the people who walked the stone paved paths around him, he wandered purposefully in search of the sea. Some paused to speak to him. Their black masked or veiled heads tilted curiously when he returned their queries with a silent and solemn gaze. He wasn’t afraid of these black-cloaked beings that had recently entered his young world. Some had brought relief from the terrible pain that was all he remembered of his past life. Eleni told him they were important people with great power, and she wanted to become one of them. That was enough for him to know.

The walk took him between long white buildings. Some were high and some were low. Squares of green grass or stone courtyards were spaced among the buildings and the path divided, with branches wandering off to unknown places. But the boy had a single purpose—to reach the ocean. He kept to the wide path as long as the sound of the waves grew louder. Where the buildings ended a wide green lawn sloped down to tufts of sea grass. The path became narrow stone steps. Then gravel paved walks that turned to hard packed sand.

Now he could see white-frothed, blue water between the great cypress trees ahead. His feet moved faster until his limping gait became an uneven trot hastening him through the shallow stand of trees to a sun-drenched stretch of beach washed by gently breaking waves. A fleeting smile touched his lips and he sat down abruptly to run thin fingers into warm, white sand. The wind off the ocean ruffled the boy’s short golden curls and he played contentedly while time passed.

Shadows shifted around him as the sun continued its flight through the sky, but the boy paid little heed while he detailed the sand reproduction of the stone giant building. His small hand was carefully carving out the mouth of the arch when a shadow fell across it. He looked up at the girl standing there.

She was small and very thin, not much bigger than he was, but the startling eyes looking back at him from her gaunt face made him feel that she was much older. Dressed in black like the others he’d seen, but her head was bare and long white hair blew around her in wild disarray. For some moments they stared at each other in silence before the girl spoke.

It’s a very good likeness, pointing at his sand edifice. Where do you come from? She watched as he turned and pointed back toward the main compound.

The girl studied the child sitting in the sand whose serious blue eyes gazed up at her from a badly disfigured face. Angry red scars that continued into the bright hair spoke of recent and terrible injuries—and explained the screams in his mind that had brought her to investigate. It was extremely rare, even for one of her abilities, to receive another’s thoughts without seeking the contact. She had only known one other whose mind linked with hers so intimately.

That recollection brought a ragged, anguished snarl from suddenly twisted lips and she turned away from the curiosity in the boy’s mute stare. Waves lapped over her bare feet as she looked out over endless waters. She focused her thoughts once more on the present, closing off the lost past, like the child behind her. But a different kind of pain and grief had shut the door to his brief past and left him living only in the present … unspeaking and uncaring what the future would bring.

Narrowing her eyes against the blinding reflections from the sea, she wondered about this connection that had come upon her so suddenly. Not welcoming this intrusion into her tightly restrained mind and emotions, she considered what to do now. Would she do this boy any favors if she answered the compelling call that had brought her, most unwilling, to this other lost bit of humanity?

The small hand curling securely into hers decided the girl’s silent debate. A long sigh of resignation escaped her as she looked askance to the solemn boy who stood by her side.

Well, Elen Arith, her mind reached out to his. I am Akira Muro. Shall we be friends? She turned to him when a brilliant smile lit the damaged face, and her own mouth curved into its first smile in many long lunams.

My God … she smiled, a wondering voice breathed softly.

Eleni Arith looked at the black-veiled woman standing beside her in the shade of the trees edging the beach. The amazed disbelief in the woman’s comment caused her to dare a respectfully voiced question. Pardon me, Ambassador Isheill, but you sound surprised. Who is that person with my brother?

An elegant, tea-colored hand gestured gracefully toward the pair on the sand. That is the young woman we seek. You will share her quarters. She is Apprentice Ambassador Muro. Isheill’s concealed eyes turned to the new recruit she was assigned to guide through the period of evaluation and training.

"Yes, I was surprised. Muro has been here over two lunams and no one has seen her smile before."

Isheill contemplated the change it made to the face of the diminutive apprentice. The young woman was amazingly beautiful beneath the agonized mask of barely restrained emotion. But, even in the short span of time she’d known the white-haired phenomenon, Isheill knew not to make such an observation to Muro. To do so would risk unleashing the chaos of unresolved torment that seethed in the girl. And that would be very dangerous with such a one—someone with the latent power that Akira Muro contained but could not yet fully control.

Her own gifts allowed her to sense Muro’s level of power and the depth of her emotions, but didn’t give her any insight into what caused them. The auras of power and emotion that surrounded the girl often made it difficult for Isheill’s sensitivities, but also compelled her to try and befriend the self-determined outcast.

Come, she murmured when Muro and the boy walked down the beach. The two women followed at a distance.

Eleni watched her little brother walking hand-in-hand with the stranger, nodding his head as if in conversation. Elen has really taken to her. He hasn’t talked to anyone since … Her hands clenched as she broke off.

Glancing at her with sympathy, Isheill encouraged, Since your parents died? Her veiled face turned back to study the silent pair ahead of them. He still isn’t speaking aloud, you know. Muro must be mindsighting him.

Tentatively extending her own powers, Isheill explored the strength of the bond permeating the mind link between them. But a sudden glance back from Muro made her withdraw immediately.

Eleni saw the angry glare directed at them. Is it safe for him to be with her?

Her anxious query caused Isheill to pause in thought. Yes. I believe he is safe with her. Her head tipped slightly as she turned to Eleni. But Muro is not someone to underestimate or take lightly.

She seems very young to be an apprentice ambassador. Eleni commented curiously. I understood it would be about six lunams before a new recruit could be accepted in the ambassador ranks.

She is fifteen, the youngest ever accepted here. Akira completed the recruit evaluation in her first lunam and mastered the apprentice skills by the second, Isheill answered quietly. She was brought in by the Most High Ambassador Karsh. Muro has been observed for some time. She comes from a family of renowned Psyches.

Psyches?

But both women cringed when a piercing shriek echoed through their consciousness! Isheill threw up a force shield when Akira whirled to face them.

Enough! Muro’s enraged mindsight came. Leave me alone! With that she spun around and ran—faster than anyone Eleni had ever seen—disappearing around the southern point of the cove.

Little Elen Arith stared after her, then plopped down on the sand once more with every intention of waiting until this fascinating creature returned. He looked up when his sister came to him, his scarred face mutinous when she held out a hand.

Come, Elen, she coaxed; hiding the fear she’d felt at the outpouring of rage from the strange girl. When her brother shook his head and pointed in the direction Muro had run, Eleni sighed in exasperation. Elen could be so stubborn when he got a notion in his head.

Isheill smiled to herself, reading the considerable force potential in the small boy. He would be a formidable individual in his own right, if he recovered fully from his psychological injuries. Was that what attracted Akira to the child?

She released a long breath. Muro had controlled the surge of force energy that could have sent a devastating blow at those she perceived as tormentors at that moment. Isheill wondered how long it would be before the young woman trusted someone enough to let go of her fear and betrayal.

Looking at the boy, she saw the deep blue eyes regarding her with a curious expression, as if he perceived her desire to comfort his new friend. Isheill smiled and received a cautious smile in return. Extending her own hand, she offered, Akira will be back. Would you like to come with us and see where Eleni will be living? She raised an elegant eyebrow beneath the black silk when she felt the exploring probe from the child’s mind as he stood and took their hands.

Yes, indeed. Elen Arith was gifted in his own exceptional way.

The day was long when Ambassador Isheill brought them to their appointment with the Most High Ambassador Karsh. Elen’s pronounced limp evidenced the child’s fatigue. He clung tightly to his sister’s hand as they entered the giant’s gaping maw and climbed a stone staircase to a vast, cold chamber. His wide blue eyes climbed the tall figure that rose behind a massive desk when they entered. Elen edged behind Eleni as she stood at rigid attention before the cold black eyes of the dark-robed woman whose short, coal-black hair matched the severity of her carved stone face. No sound escaped him when the black eyes flicked to him impassively, but he shivered uncontrollably as he pressed close to his sister.

You are Recruit Arith, Karsh stated coolly. And this is? nodding curtly toward the child.

I beg your indulgence, Most High Ambassador, Eleni replied nervously while bending into a deep bow. Her voice cracked with her temerity in what she was about to ask. This is my brother Elen. Our parents died—

I know that, Karsh snapped, her voice tight as a whip. Why is he here?

Eleni cringed, struggling to remain calm. He has no place to go. Calling up every shred of her courage, she pleaded, I’m the only one he has to look after him and I was hoping he could stay with me. I could provide his food, she rushed on. And he only needs a corner of my room to spread his pallet … She trailed off under the frigid glare from the black eyes, hanging her head in despair.

This is not a family journey, Arith. Karsh’s voice as cold as her eyes while she sat back in her chair. Only ambassadors, staff, and potential candidates are permitted here.

Karsh stiffened when a low voice spoke from the door, her piercing eyes shifting to the small apprentice who stood there.

He could stay with the groundskeeper and his wife, Muro stated in a distant voice. If it pleases you, Most High Karsh. The respectful acknowledgement seemed almost an afterthought to those who listened.

The highest official of Caldala’s renowned Ambassador Core twined her fingers together on her desktop, leaving the first fingers tapping thoughtfully at their tips. Once again, Karsh wished in vain for the mental gift to probe Akira Muro’s complex mind. What was her interest in this boy?

From the very first moment of learning about the young Psyche, Karsh had decided that the girl would become an ambassador. The Most High had need of any with force abilities and this one showed promise of unique talent. If she could find the key that controlled her, Muro could be the means of fulfilling Ana Karsh’s ambitions. A slight furrowing between her eyebrows revealed her frustration with the fact that, thus far, Akira Muro had proven unusually independent and strong-willed—despite the emotional damage that Karsh hoped to use to her own advantage. Perhaps the boy would be the weakness in Muro’s barriers.

Returning her cold gaze to the child, the Most High nodded. I will have Carel and Ela meet the boy. If they agree, he may live with them. She looked at Eleni as the young recruit offered her thanks and continued in a severe voice, "He will not be allowed to wander the grounds of Ambassador Central. Is that clear, Recruit Arith?" Glancing at Muro, Karsh saw the slight dip of the white head.

Eleni bowed deeply. Very clear, Most High Ambassador.

Elen! his sister hissed, looking around the stables in alarm to see if anyone else had noticed him. In the several lunams they’d been here her brother had managed to disobey the Most High’s injunction almost daily. Eleni was afraid that Karsh would grow tired of his disobedience and order him away.

Elen, come here!

The mutinous face peering down from the hayloft frowned at her. His thin hand pointed to an empty stall.

No. Akira’s not here. Eleni beckoned to him, explaining quietly, She had to go home, but she’ll be back soon. She didn’t want to tell him the girl’s father had died, fearing the news would set back his own recovery. Eleni turned away from the question in his eyes and went to the ladder.

Please don’t make me come after you, Elen.

The boy sighed and quickly descended. He gave his sister a mischievous grin and tugged her with him as he led the way back through the tall hedges separating the stables from the groundskeeper’s domain. Ela came out of the neat cottage, shaking a chiding finger at the boy even as she tried to hide the amusement in her good-natured face. Eleni was thankful Muro had offered this as a solution.

Her brother seemed happy here, and Ela and Carel were very good to him. A retired ambassador teaching healing arts at Central had cajoled him into taking part in a demonstration for prospective healers. Though he was still scarred, Elen moved about on two sound legs again.

If only he would stop trying to follow Akira all the time.

After hugging him goodbye—with another admonition to stay where he belonged—Eleni returned to the stables in time for her lesson in mounted combat. She thought about her enigmatic roommate while saddling her horse. Sharing quarters with Muro was like living with a lost spirit, she mused. Not that Akira was difficult. If anything, she was unnaturally neat and organized. But she hardly ever spoke and never revealed personal thoughts or anything of her life before the Ambassador Core. Eleni sensed that Muro had locked her past away and now existed solely as a keeper of incredible force talent. Akira moved through her apprentice training with ease and had recently been elevated to full ambassador status. Soon she’d be moving into the larger quarters awarded her rank.

Elen seemed to be the only person Muro cared for. She hadn’t even wanted to return to her village for her father’s funeral, but Isheill had quietly convinced her to go. When Arith had cautiously offered her sympathy—mentioning the deaths of her own parents—an icy emerald gaze had discouraged further attempts at consolation. Glancing at the empty stall, Eleni wondered what the girl would be like when she returned.

Two days later, Muro returned to the self-contained world of Ambassador Central—more reclusive than ever.

"You know, Ambassador Isheill, Eleni pressed one morning at the combat arena. What happened to her? She doesn’t speak to me at all, and she hasn’t been to see Elen since she came back."

Isheill’s lovely dark face grew sad as she brought her horse around to face the apprentice. It is best to leave Akira alone. She does not share her past or her sorrows with anyone.

Do you think that’s why she wears her veil all the time now?

Bring your elbows in, Arith, and sit straight. You slouch like a sack of grain, Isheill ordered sharply, letting her know the discussion was finished.

If Eleni was willing to let the matter drop, her brother was not. He pursued his mysterious friend cautiously, recognizing the shields Akira had placed around her mind. Elen’s efforts were rewarded when he discovered her huddled against the sea cliff near the southernmost point a few days after her return. The white hair whipping in the ocean wind was tinted by the red light of the sun low above the sea. The warm glow lent color to her pale face, but emphasized the deep gash above one blackened eye.

Akira glanced at the boy when she felt the surge of his distress. It doesn’t matter, Elen. But a solitary tear slid down her bleak face as she turned back to the sea. She stared silently at the setting sun, wrapping thin arms tight around the child who snuggled close beside her.

A smell of burning made Akira toss restlessly in sleep that night. There was smoke, and soul-stealing fear trapped in a tight wooden coffin. Terror built with the approach of the monsters. Closer now, the howling, crushing sounds of them breaking and searching. Eleni!

Muro jerked awake, wide eyes scanning the dark room for danger. Eleni still slept peacefully in her narrow bed but the screams continued to fill Akira’s mind. Throwing on black robe and veil, she ran on silent feet to the groundkeeper’s cottage.

Lights blazed there and screams filled the night. Her persistent knocking brought Carel to the door.

Ambassador Muro, he cried with relief, waving her in. It’s Elen.

He didn’t stop to question what had brought her here within minutes of the boy’s seizure, but immediately led her to where the child lay rigid on his bed. Elen’s eyes were wide with horror while he shrieked. Ela was trying to calm him, without success.

Akira moved fast when force flames ignited around his clawed fingers. Get out! she shouted to the older couple, pulling the woman away while she raised her hand to contain the energy pulsing from the boy’s fingers.

The monsters had Eleni! They grabbed her with clawed hands. Laughing with red mouths. She screamed as they surrounded her, dragging her to the floor for their foul bodies to devour. Elen’s mind burned and lighting streaked from him to destroy the snaking demons! Screaming while they screamed—destroying them when they ran!

Elen. Tapping the memories that had awakened, Akira flinched at the carnage the child was relieving. I’m here. You’re safe. Eleni’s safe.

His nightmare shifted. Burning flames surrounded him, and the sounds of shattering glass. Cruel shards raked his face as he was thrown to fall in a never-ending torment of pain.

I’m here, Elen. You’re safe with me.

Now he fell in a gentle waterfall that soothed the agony of torn flesh and shattered limbs. White light drove back the black of fear and rage, sending the overwhelming remembrances to their dungeon until he was strong enough to banish them forever.

His body sagged, limp with relief and exhaustion. Only then did Akira pull back from his fragile mind. Curling up beside him, she twined long, thin fingers with his to anchor and comfort him through the remainder of the night.

Master Healer Olvie shook her head as she turned from her examination of the Arith boy. The child was truly gifted—and terribly damaged.

What you ask is impossible, Muro. You know the sanctions against tampering with such injuries. Olvie looked at the girl she’d been instructing for several lunams. Healing is reserved for injury to the body, not the mind. Each mind is unique, and altered by learning and experience. We cannot simply make it new again.

The young woman was adamant as she argued, There’s nothing wrong with Elen’s mind. Why can’t you heal his scars even as you healed his legs?

Olvie sat and studied the girl for a moment. What do you think that would accomplish, Akira?

There was a long silence before the girl spoke. We are reminded of the past by what we see in the mirror. Muro shifted to look at her veiled reflection in a silvered glass. Perhaps if Elen was not reminded of his trauma every day, he could heal.

A slight smile lifted old lips. It has merit, child. But I cannot do it. Karsh has forbidden the healers to do any more for the boy. Olvie faced the girl calmly when she felt force energy rise.

Channel it outside, Akira. You know I don’t possess the ability to stop you.

Thin shoulders slumped as Muro damped the building force. Taking Elen’s hand, she turned toward the door.

Akira. Olvie’s shrewd eyes peered into the veil. "You are not a designated healer … not yet." She watched the young head tip thoughtfully.

Muro drew the child to an infirmary bed and settled him on it. Elen smiled trustingly when Akira pulled off her veil and stared down at him. She gave a brief nod and laid a hand over one of his scars. Olvie’s eyes grew wide as green force flames rippled over the delicate hand. Stroking slowly over the damaged face, Akira continued until all visible traces of injury were gone and her body trembled with fatigue.

Feels good, Kira, Elen whispered in a voice made rusty by disuse. He felt only her love in the peaceful silence of his mind.

The old healer sighed in amazement. There had never been anyone like Akira Muro in all her long years in this service. Olvie got up and raised a hand to heal the wound above the girl’s eye, but Muro raised a hand to stop her.

Akira bent and kissed the child. Her smile bittersweet as she murmured, Not everything lost can be found, Ambassador Olvie. Some memories of the past are necessary to endure the future.

Replacing the concealing veil, she slipped away.

The

Black Spirit

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One

"I t’s time, Commander." The young warrior was calm, his eyes on his leader.

The others have moved on? Muro’s low voice questioned in return, emotionless, already sure of the answer.

The way is clear. They’ll never know we passed, feeling the gaze that pierced him. He wouldn’t see the face behind the concealing mask again until this was over, and that was hard.

Go then, came the terse command. You know what to do. Hidden eyes saw his right arm cross his chest in respectful salute one last time.

She watched the team disappear like wraiths into the pre-dawn darkness of the high mountain forest, waiting only long enough to be sure of their departure. Muro turned back to the narrow mountain road, running silently down through the border of trees—a black shadow flying effortlessly among the long shadows cast by the rising sun.

By sunset of the next day, Commander Muro stood above the hanging valley that held the highest permanent settlement in the nation of Caldala. She stood motionless in the dark edge of the forest, surveying town and fortifications while the sun spent its last rays of light.

Mountain Shadows, unaware of the coming danger, Muro brooded, noting how idyllic it seemed as smoke from hearth fires rose lazily into the evening sky. Her bleak eyes focused beyond the village, following the river that ran beside the fortified hold until it dropped in a thundering fall to the valley below. From there, the land fell away steeply in a series of plateaus and valleys, most hidden beneath deep forests until the terrain began to slope more gently across the middle of the nation. She thought of the villages and farming communities there, ever increasing as the fertile lands marched to the sea, and the larger towns and small cities supported by coastal shipping and fishing trades.

Caldala was a land bordered by the sea to the west, north, and portions of the south. It was separated from neighboring Ishal in the east by a high range of mountains that remained generally impassable. Here, in the highlands, only one narrow pass through ancient volcanic terrain accessed Ishal, and that only during the warm seasons of the year.

These natural geologic boundaries had protected Caldala’s sovereignty for hundreds of years while hardy immigrants settled this insular and sometimes harsh region. Over generations, a strong and successful people of unique abilities had risen to become a great civilization.

Muro’s attention returned to the village below. She tensed, sighting the uniforms on a small group leaving the central fortress that housed the protectorate forces. The black uniforms of the military personnel made them easy to follow under the lanterns that now illuminated the twilight streets.

Without warning, long-suppressed emotions flared. Muro’s gloved hands clenched into fists at unwelcome memories of a life long ago and the dreams that had died because of this place. A much different life had sprung from those ashes—one that would end here again.

Enough, Muro’s taught voice exclaimed, willing her slim body to release its tension. The unruly mind was ordered into submission. There was one last duty to be done. The past was gone. Only the present and the final mission remained. For Commander Muro there was no future beyond that.

With a sigh, she settled to the ground, back against a tall evergreen as she listened to the wind moan through the trees. The larger of the moons was rising above the valley. There was time before it would be dark enough to continue into the village. She could have moved without being seen, even in full daylight, but it was pointless to expend energy at this point in the mission.

With nothing to do but wait, Muro thought of the reconnaissance team traveling in Ishal. They were completely on their own. There was nothing their commander could do to defend them against the enemy they were seeking.

All she could do now was forge the alliance necessary to defend Caldala from a force none of them had faced before. That alliance would be built with the elite protectorate warriors in the valley below.

Now, it was High Ambassador Muro’s duty. For a brief moment, tight lips curved into a rueful smile at the irony of it all.

Another ale, Senior Master?

The girl’s cheerful voice penetrated the comfortable rumble of conversation filling the pub, but it took a well-aimed elbow to the ribs to bring Kilronan from his silent distraction.

Wake up, Kil, and answer the lass, Osharon boomed. It’s your turn to stand a round for the table. He grinned at his closest friend’s cynically quirked brow.

Lifting a half-full cup, Kilronan shifted back in his chair and gave the waiting girl an easy smile. None for me, Ala, but bring another for my friends.

Aye, Master Kilronan.

Osharon watched her weave through the crowded tables with enticing grace. Glancing sideways to his friend, he muttered good-naturedly, She fancies you, you know.

Slapping a broad hand on Kilronan’s shoulder, another tablemate roared, Aye. And if this one tasted all the women who sent a second look his way, there’d be none looking at you, Osharon. Cobon grinned while Osharon nodded in agreement.

Ignoring both, Kilronan took a long drink.

Kil prefers his time readying his sword, Osharon teased.

Isn’t that what we’re talking of? Cobon leered, laughing at his own humor.

All swords need to be ready, Senior Master Arla interjected, deliberately steering the conversation while tossing a wealth of dark red hair over her shoulder. The ship runners bring news of the Black Death.

Hah, Cobon snorted. Black Death. More like black nightmares for frightening children and the weak minded. Taking a deep swallow, he wiped foam from his thick mustache. Where’s the proof, I say? Where are the first hand accounts? All we hear are rumors.

Some say none are left alive to make account, Osharon murmured, glancing at Kil, but his friend hardly seemed to follow the conversation.

Kilronan tasted the rich ale and let his mind drift over the voices of his companions. Something was different. Shimmers ran under his skin like the first building of power before the release.

Change was in the air, teasing the edge of conscious thought like a premonition.

Restless, he pushed away from the table. Leaving coin for his share, Kilronan shrugged into his jacket and shrugged off the demands of the company to stay.

Leaving the crowded warmth, he stepped out into the cold and empty street.

The first moon was disappearing beyond the ridge across from the valley, and the tiny second moon would soon rise over the mountain peaks above the village. Kilronan stopped, closing his eyes to absorb the sounds, scents, and impressions of the night. He felt the wind stir his hair, teasing long white strands from the black leather band that confined them in a straight fall down his back.

The air was brisk and carried the clean scent of late snow. There was the roar and rush of the river, swollen with the start of the seasonal melt. The village was quiet. Only the muffled voices from the public house behind him challenged the sounds of the river.

The shimmer under his skin was stronger, more insistent. Edgy now, he opened his eyes to probe the shadows. Calming his mind, Kilronan allowed the sight to open, reaching out into the night for the source of the disturbance.

Power.

It charged the air and battered his mind even as it frustrated, tormenting him with subtle familiarity.

Memories flooded his mind with the gentle perfume of a long ago dream. Kilronan shuddered when the night breeze caressed his face—golden-red hair brushing his skin. Kil’s hands lifted to the face disappearing into the swirling strands until all he could see were dark eyes filled with sorrow.

With the finality of a slamming door, the vision was gone.

Shaken, his hands clenched in fists by this reminder of loss, Kilronan made his way along the stone-paved road. At the deep arched gate of the protectorate stronghold he acknowledged the gatekeeper’s salute before turning toward his quarters.

The young boy perched on his stairway was the latest in the night’s surprises.

Maronan? Propping a booted foot on the step below the slight figure, Kilronan studied the lad.

The air is itchy tonight, Master.

Kil nodded slowly, relieved that his youngest team member spoke with curious excitement and not in the solemn, deep voice that came with the child’s disquieting premonitions.

A good way of putting it, he agreed, moving to sit beside him. I wondered about it myself. Any ideas? Outwardly relaxed, he waited to hear Maronan’s answer, but the boy only shrugged.

It’s new. Good. Like the tickle I feel with a new force skill. Hugging his knees to him, Maronan grinned up at his leader. I like it.

Tousling the boy’s dark curls Kilronan grinned back. I guess we’ll see what comes of it. Now, get to bed. Where did you leave the rest?

Pushing to his feet, Maronan jumped to the ground. Cee’s gone up. Asura’s reading, and Eron’s— He broke off with a gasp as a long arm shot past the stair post, circling his neck, looking for me!

Right, sprout. The tall young man treated the boy much like a mischievous younger brother. Eron gave their master a nod as he slung the giggling Maronan over his shoulder.

Good night, Master Kilronan.

A good night to you, Journeymen. Kil rose, watching his charges move through the lamp lit courtyard while he walked up the stairs.

In his quarters, Kilronan went to a window that overlooked the long main street to the west gate. Guards moved through their appointed rounds. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet that awareness trembled just out of reach.

Thinking about Maronan’s words and his own suspicions, Kilronan accepted that a new force had come to Mountain Shadows. One he’d been waiting for.

Evan Corcoran, Lord of Mountain Shadows Protectorate, watched the second moon rise from his private offices. Usually his favorite time, bringing stillness and quiet after the responsibilities of his position, this night Corcoran rolled broad shoulders stiff from a restless day. Although the sky was cloudless and full of stars, he felt an undercurrent in the air like that preceding a storm.

He relaxed when he heard the light steps of his administrative assistant before they stopped at his door. The smile on his lips faded as he turned and saw who stood with the wide-eyed Gralla.

An ambassador.

Not just any ambassador, he realized, focusing on the medallion lying against a deep-hooded black cloak. Corcoran actually felt the blood drain from his face, but a lifetime of military service steeled his spine.

He gave a deep bow before lifting his eyes to the hidden face of the silent figure. We are honored by your presence, High Ambassador Muro.

I doubt that, Lord Corcoran. Her low voice held rueful amusement in its cynicism. However, your welcome is appreciated.

Meeting Gralla’s worried stare, he gestured toward the door. Thank you, Gralla. You may leave us. Evan gave her a reassuring smile when she hesitated. Please arrange refreshments and accommodations for our guest.

Yes, my lord.

Please, my lady, let us sit, indicating the comfortable seating area near the fire, praying she wouldn’t take offense at the informality. May I take your cloak?

Sweeping back her hood, Muro released the cloak then settled gratefully into the deep-cushioned chair. She studied the man from behind her black mask. Corcoran, a veteran protectorate warrior, would not require the pleasantries and careful diplomacy a civilian administrator would. With his reputation she could come directly to the point.

Lord Corcoran, I’m here at the direction of both the Prince Regent and the Ambassador Core to secure the services of your protectorate. My mission is to insure the security of Caldala from invaders. This will require basing myself at Mountain Shadows for some lunams.

Although her statement was courteous in delivery, Evan understood he had no choice in this matter. There would be severe repercussions in refusing not only the royal house, but—at least by reputation—the most powerful person in the land. Certainly the most dangerous woman their country had known, who now sought the specialized services of his protectorate.

If they succeeded it would bring great renown—if his team failed? Well. They couldn’t fail. So he settled himself to hear what was required of Mountain Shadows Protectorate.

Kilronan was still at his window when the sun’s first rays softened the horizon. Light flooded over the peaks, warming the gray slate rooftops of the village of Mountain Shadows. Stepping neatly down the sloping valley, stone and wood buildings were peaceful in the new day. This morning he hardly saw the beauty of the place he’d come to call his home.

A tap on the door announced the messenger he’d been expecting. But the summons for all senior masters to the conference hall later that morning did not satisfy his need. Taking time only to wash and change, Kilronan set out for administration.

Only to be stopped at the desk of the reception clerk.

I’m sorry, Master Kilronan, Lord Corcoran isn’t available. He is not to be disturbed.

I’ll wait, Anki. I need to talk with him at his earliest convenience. Kilronan’s deep voice held an uncharacteristic edge.

The clerk took in every detail as he turned away. Kilronan’s angular face drew every woman’s gaze. Handsome he was, but it was the eyes that compelled—caught between blue and green, not one or the other, under flaring brows. His tall, lean-muscled build filled out the protectorate uniform just fine. Striking white hair was pulled neatly back through a broad leather band and fell in a long tail down his back—a stark contrast against black leather uniform. Anki sighed as he moved away with the silent, powerful grace that was uniquely his own.

Forget that one, Anki. He’s immune to women’s charms, Gralla warned quietly as she entered the antechamber. He’s a good man, and a handsome one. But, he keeps to himself. In the years I’ve known him there has never been a woman linked with Master Kilronan. He treats all with respect and some with friendship. Nothing more.

You cannot know everything, Gralla, Anki hissed dismissively, her eyes narrowing with annoyance. She’d invested a great deal of time and effort to tempt the elusive warrior. Anki was used to men eagerly taking what she offered, and she was determined to capture Senior Master Kilronan.

Gralla sent a pitying glance but held her tongue. The young clerk wasn’t the first to desire the reticent master, or to be disappointed. Still, the frivolous aside had served to briefly distract from her own worries regarding the ambassador.

Why was she here? Mountain Shadows had never drawn the attention of the Ambassador Core before.

Now she was to provide all assistance to High Ambassador Muro, who was to be housed in one of the two guest residences here at administration. How was she to know what to provide for such a person? A widely traveled woman with a deadly reputation, a senior ambassador who had been awarded a title by the royal house for her leadership in battle, a woman who had the ear of the prince, and was said to give him council!

The silvery tinkle of a bell interrupted this tangle of thoughts and sent her hurrying to answer Lord Corcoran’s call.

Gralla, please send for Master Kilronan immediately. Corcoran stood looking out toward the mountains above the village.

He’s here, sir, and has requested a meeting with you.

Corcoran turned from the window, considering. Send him in.

Yes, sir. Also, a carriage has arrived from Ambassador Central with a delivery for the High Ambassador. She’s chosen the smaller guest quarters. Shall I have the driver escorted there?

Immediately. By the way, how did our illustrious guest arrive last night?

I don’t know. I went to secure the door and she was just there. I didn’t see a carriage or horse.

Noting the strain in her voice, Evan feigned an easy confidence. Thank you, Gralla. Inform the ambassador and get her approval before sending the carriage.

Pacing slowly to his desk, Corcoran mused over Kilronan’s fortuitous presence. Something surfaced in his memory before the knock at the door announced the man himself.

Kilronan, as the warrior bowed respectfully. We have a matter of both delicacy and great importance.

Nodding, Kilronan stood to attention. Indeed, sir. I believe High Ambassador Akira Muro arrived last night. Anticipating that her presence here involves a tactical mission, I respectfully request that my team be assigned to her.

Corcoran only raised a thoughtful brow though this prescience had taken him by surprise. I’m aware that you come from the same village as the lady. Do you know the ambassador’s assignment? He studied Kilronan’s impassive face. The man revealed nothing. Still, there was a brief hesitation before the calm response.

Ambassador Muro and I have not communicated in over twenty years.

Then I’m curious how you know that she has requested a protectorate team. Corcoran waved that away impatiently. I agree that yours is the one to meet her needs. However, this will be addressed before all senior masters later this morning.

Dissatisfied, Kilronan’s jaw tightened before he shifted his gaze to the view of towering mountains. Even she cannot stop them alone.

Another master at hiding his thoughts, Corcoran only leaned back in his chair. The High Ambassador will discuss her mission. You’re dismissed, Master Kilronan.

Kilronan returned the salute of the administration guard before crossing the central courtyard. The driver nodded respectfully when he paused by the unmarked black carriage waiting for its escort. Noting the empty compartment, Kilronan glanced toward the arch leading to the guest quarters.

He left the high-walled compound through a stone arch where massive gates stood open in this time of peace. Administration stood on the highest ground of Mountain Shadows Protectorate, beside the main road that ran from the north gate and down the hill past the thick walled fortress that housed the service buildings and living quarters of the protectorate warriors. The road curved on through the village itself until it went through the west gate and into the lower valley.

After the short walk, Kilronan checked in with the guard on duty before going on to the training field where his team was working through maneuvers. He paused, evaluating each carefully.

Lithe and golden Asura was the most experienced warrior at twenty-six years. Her skills and talents were worthy of this mission and her courage and loyalty already proven many times. She was the leader when Kilronan was absent and her maturity and discretion were invaluable.

Black haired, eighteen year old Eron was quiet and unassuming. Combatants had mistaken this, to their detriment. A wave of Eron’s hand could sweep an assailant off his feet, while another summoned an object to pin him to the ground.

Then there was flashy Celina with unruly red hair flying in all directions. An accomplished fire caller at sixteen years, her brash manner and quick tongue often brought her to trouble. She was, however, a strong and loyal team member.

His attention lingered on Maronan. The boy was a very young recruit from Kilronan’s home village. His natural powers were still maturing though he was already an integral member of the team. Kilronan believed that Maronan had the gift for which some from Psyche Lakes were renowned but only time would prove.

Together they were the best of the young protectorate. For the first time, he wondered if were they good enough.

Kilronan scanned the stark peaks rising above the village. He knew there was only one reason for Akira Muro’s presence here. Suppressing the bitterness that still haunted him, Kilronan moved to brief his team.

Perched on a low wall a few minutes later, Asura listened to Master Kilronan’s very brief announcement. She could see that he was unusually concerned and wondered about the scant details.

Who is High Ambassador Muro?

Asura chuckled at the question. Trust Celina to cut impatiently to the heart of the matter, even if it betrayed the young girl’s ignorance.

Educate yourself regarding the Ambassador before we meet. Details will be provided after the team is accepted. With that curt command, Kilronan turned and left them.

Celina and Maronan looked after him with mouths agape. Eron watched their leader go, noting the rigid set of Kilronan’s back. It wasn’t like their master to be so brusque with them.

Well, why are you all sitting here looking like fish out of water? Asura prodded. You heard Master Kilronan. Celina, talk to Master Kerle at the archives. He can enlighten you on the ambassador ranks and their duties. You’ll find it interesting.

Why can’t you tell me? Celina queried irritably. I don’t have time to spend in musty archives with boring old men.

You know the answer to that, returned Asura, and three voices joined with her. Knowledge gained by your own efforts remains in the mind longest. With a brief smile, she waved them on.

Sometime later, Celina had to admit that her time spent at the archives had been fascinating. Asura was right, as usual, she admitted to Maronan, who’d accompanied her.

Mar hated knowing less than his teammates about anything. He never liked his age used as an excuse to be less prepared. This time, though, he had the advantage and he grinned at the thought.

I know about the Ambassador Core. Who doesn’t? Politics and protocol in a spooky package. Not much about Ambassador Muro, Celina mulled.

High Ambassador Akira Muro was the youngest ambassador ever recruited. She was only fifteen years when she was accepted into the Ambassador Core and has successfully completed more missions that any ambassador in history.

That’s good, Maronan. You must have found some great information.

No one is allowed to keep personal records of the ambassadors. It might be used by an enemy. Maronan enjoyed the surprise on Celina’s face as he continued. Ambassador Muro comes from my village. She’s considered a village treasure.

Wow, returned Celina, duly impressed. What else do you know?

Not much. She’s a lot older than me, but not old. I’ve never even seen her. Everyone says she was really nice. Some think she gave up too much to be an ambassador. My aunt says her mother cries sometimes when she talks about her.

Master Kilronan’s from your village, too. So he probably knows her.

The boy’s brows pinched together. I guess. She’s a Psyche, too.

Like Master Kilronan?

Sort off.

Before she could ask him to explain, several masters crossed their path through the courtyard. Celina looked after them in amazement. They’re in formal uniform.

Maronan nodded, wishing he could sneak into their meeting. They must be going to find out what Ambassador Muro’s doing here.

In formals? Cee repeated incredulously.

You really don’t know who she is, do you? Maronan giggled. Ambassador Muro is second only to the Most High Ambassador Karsh. Some say she’s even more powerful. She’s also a titled lady by will of the House of Coroth. I guess Lord Corcoran doesn’t want to risk offending her.

Come on Mar, she scoffed. Lord Corcoran has seen more battles than anyone. He’s not afraid of some diplomat from the Core.

He’s afraid of her.

The boy’s sudden shift to that eerie, somber tone ran chills down Celina’s spine. The eyes he turned to her were deep and dark.

Everyone’s afraid of her.

Lord Corcoran waited with silent pride as his senior masters marched into the hall with military precision. Taking their places before the low stage, they stood at attention and saluted. Corcoran returned the salute before turning toward the dark draperies behind him.

High Ambassador Muro, I have the honor of presenting the Assembly of Senior Masters of Mountain Shadows Protectorate.

Corcoran suppressed a smile at the subtle shift of his masters when the woman appeared to materialize from the dark shadows. She moved forward with quiet dignity, beautiful hands lightly clasping one another, dressed in a formal robe of black and emerald fitted to a slender form. Though a silky black veil covered her face, Corcoran knew Ambassador Muro saw every detail before her.

Still and silent, Akira noted each warrior as he or she was named, steeling herself for the one name that had changed everything. He was here—first to enter, last to be named. And so much more than the boy he’d been.

Senior Master Kilronan, Corcoran finished with a smile, watching carefully for any sign of recognition. But he couldn’t detect the emotion behind the master’s calm expression as Kilronan gave a deep bow.

But Muro felt it and, for a brief moment, met his intense gaze as he straightened. Thankful for the concealing veil, Akira forced her attention back to Lord Corcoran’s words as he gave the brief statement they had agreed upon earlier.

While he spoke, she discreetly studied the other masters. Lord Corcoran had told her that one of his senior masters was in the field with his team. He could not know she was already aware of this. Fortunately, for her purposes, that team was investigating the condition of the pass between Caldala and Ishal.

Those present were an interesting mix of personalities and appearance. All were focused on the information their lord was providing. Muro had no doubts as to their competence. Mountain Shadows Protectorate had a proven reputation, and the Ambassador Core kept detailed records on all protectorate warriors.

Mountain Shadows was the gatekeeper for the only land access into the country. Its location at the top of the narrow mountain valley made it difficult for any to come into Caldala without being noticed. The protectorate fortress guarded the road from the High Pass, which continued out of the far end of the valley and, eventually, down to the sea.

Over the years, Mountain Shadows had held the pass against smugglers, criminals, and a variety of invaders. They had yet to meet an enemy as deadly as the one known as the Black Death, she thought to herself.

This protectorate had the seasoned warriors Muro needed, who were essential to the success of her own mission. And the most powerful was Kilronan—the man who had left her for the protectorate services.

And that was over, she reminded herself as she drew on the rigid self-control that had become as much a part of her as her skin. Kilronan was no different than any other asset she had utilized over her career. If he and his team were best suited for this mission, she would use them.

Calm again, Akira returned to her survey. A slight smile curved her mouth when she recognized another from her past. Seated between Kilronan and a woman Muro remembered from Corcoran’s introduction as Arla, was Osharon. Here were uncomplicated memories of a childhood friend.

Osharon had changed as well. Instead of a brash and skinny youth, she saw a disciplined, broad-shouldered warrior. His head turned from Corcoran to study her with curious speculation in his eyes. Then his mouth curved slowly into the mischievous smile she’d known so well and, for a moment, she felt whole again.

Lord Corcoran stepped down to take a seat with his masters while everyone’s attention turned to the ambassador. Muro accepted the caution and suspicion in their eyes. The Ambassador Core had earned both. It was not her intent, or desire, to amend that reputation. Caution and suspicion were necessary traits in these times. And a healthy dose of fear was sometimes more effective that amity as a means to an end.

Lord Corcoran has spoken of the threat that many call the Black Death, she began abruptly, her voice cool, yet compelling. They call themselves the Mors. The Ambassador Core first began hearing reports about them over a year and a half ago when they moved into Kuldor.

Akira paused, nodding to Arla’s raised hand. This one wasn’t easily intimidated, she thought with some amusement.

Is it known where they come from? Where their homeland is?

We believe they migrated from the Black Continent. Muro waited out the rumble of disbelief. Kuldor has, for some years, observed a great increase in volcanic activity across the strait, including massive lava flows into the waters between the landmasses. It is believed that the Mors were able to use a new land bridge to cross to this continent.

Anticipating the next question, she continued, It is not known why they did or what their purpose is. We don’t know if this is a scouting force or an invasion. What we have learned is that they are ruthless and lethal. Wherever they go, they kill. Without any attempt to negotiate, and without any concern for the population—men, women, and children are all slaughtered.

How? The single, deep-voiced word came from Kilronan. How do they fight? With what weaponry?

They do not fight, Akira answered. They slaughter. No one survives. Without warning, she lifted a hand toward an empty chair and sent a force bolt that shattered it.

In the shocked silence, she scanned their faces. The Mors have force abilities. Extreme ones.

Kilronan leaned back, one brow lifted in amazement. She’d called that bolt seemingly without thought. He knew her reputation, but had never seen such an effortless use of force before. He’d sensed her last night, but she’d somehow damped that aura of power during his mind search. Even now, he’d felt nothing that should have preceded that bolt. Not even the smallest build or surge before the release.

A tap on his knee had Kilronan glancing over to Osharon. His friend just gave a huge grin as he tipped his head toward the stage. They looked back as the ambassador spoke again.

The Mors have devastated large regions of Kuldor, Mildrath, and have moved into Ishal. The Ishakan horse tribes have retreated to the deep mountains of the north. By all reports and appearances, the enemy will continue its advance from sea to sea. Akira scanned the now frowning faces. "Mountain Shadows Protectorate is the first point of defense for Caldala. My task is to keep the Mors from breaching the High Pass.

To that end, I will be enlisting one of your teams. Muro ignored the rustle of movement at this. That team will undergo a rigorous and time intensive training under my supervision, to prepare them to support me when we move out to defend the pass.

And the rest of the protectorate teams? the master named Cobon rumbled.

You will all be called upon to support this mission. As the time for action grows closer we will work together to prepare both defense and offense.

Her veiled head tilted toward Osharon when he asked, How will we know what the enemy is doing? How close they are to Caldala?

The Ambassador Core is collecting and assessing all reports coming in from other countries, and from dedicated scouts. I will receive reports directly through the royal messengers.

How will you pick the team to serve your mission? Arla asked.

Cobon snorted. Well then, the ambassador needs Team Kilronan, doesn’t she? His has the broadest skills.

Muro stiffened, her voice cold enough to freeze. I will interview all teams to make my decision. She saw Kilronan’s expression harden.

Osharon flicked her a confused look before turning his head to a whispered remark from Arla.

Lifting a hand to curb further comment, Akira braced against the exhaustion that now swamped her. Several days and nights of little to no sleep, and the strain of dealing with long suppressed emotions, were taking their toll. Unwilling to risk a show of weakness in front of these strangers, Muro chose a tactical retreat.

I have outlined the basics. Lord Corcoran, she turned to him as he rose. You will want to discuss this with your protectorate. You and I can meet within a day or two to discuss how to proceed.

Facing the masters, who had risen at a discrete signal from Corcoran, she gave a shallow bow. I appreciate your time and attention. You are all to be commended for the excellence of your protectorate’s reputation.

To their surprise, High Ambassador Muro descended the few steps from the stage and greeted each master by name. Offering her hand in warrior’s clasp and inquiring briefly about the leader’s team, she spent a few minutes with each before continuing to the next in line.

Osharon was ready when she reached him. Well known for his pranks, he shocked the assembly by taking the hand she offered and raising it to his lips. My dearest Ambassador Muro, it is a great pleasure to be in your presence once again.

Everyone waited in absolute silence for her response. Corcoran released the breath he’d been holding when he