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  Legends of Tirum

  Book Three

  Spirit Mage

  By

  Esther Mitchell

  This work is copyright 2011 by Esther Mitchell

  Legends of Tirum

  Book One: Daughter of Ashes

  Book Two: Phoenix Rising

  Book Three: Spirit Mage

  COMING SOON

  Book Four: Mistress of Cats

  Other Books By Esther Mitchell

  PROJECT PROMETHEUS

  Book One: In Her Name

  Book Two: Hope of Heaven

  Book Three: Shadow Walker

  COMING SOON

  Book Four: Blood Debt

  Book Five: Between Worlds

  GUARDIANS, INC: WITCH HOLLOW

  Book One: Sight Unseen

  Book Two: Up In Flames

  COMING SOON

  Book Three: Nick of Time

  HANOVER INVESTIGATIONS

  Book One: Burden of Proof

  COMING SOON

  Book Two: Silent Night

  UNDERGROUND

  Book One: Tamia

  Book Two: Mind Killer

  Book Three: Terminal Hunter

  Book Four: Hero's Hope

  Book Five: Vengeful Heart

  COMING SOON

  Book Six: Deadly Designs

  FyrRose Productions.

  637 S. Cynthia Avenue

  Tucson AZ 85710

  http://www.esthermitchell.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Esther Mitchell

  ISBN: 9781711777917

  Published in the United States of America

  Publication Date: December 1, 2019

  Editor: Gail R. Delaney

  Cover Artist: Jenifer Ranieri

  Cover Art Copyright by FyrRose Productions © 2018

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

  Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting or uploading is illegal and violates United States Copyright laws.

  Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Dedication and Acknowledgement

  To my soulmate and love of my life, for giving me the courage to follow my dreams, and for loving me even when I couldn't love myself.

  To my editor, Gail Delaney, and my cover artist, Jenifer Ranieri, for your enthusiastic support and sharing your amazing talent. I couldn't have done this without you.

  Chapter One

  The Eleshau was alive. That was what all the stories about this benighted wood said, and after everything she'd seen during her time in the Borderlands, she wasn't inclined to disagree. Phoenix Telyn Gwndal eyed the trees around her warily as she rode along the undergrowth-covered ancient paths. Not many people ever travelled these trails. Few who did ever returned.

  She glanced to her right, certain the trees were whispering, and not in the whimsical, imaginative way. She was far too aware the shadows here harbored monsters capable of killing the body, or stealing the soul.

  "I must be mad."

  She knew why she was here, but she wasn't inclined to linger longer than necessary. Somewhere out there in the trees was Nacaris' final resting place. Though she'd searched for weeks, she never found his body. She mourned him the whole way to Raiador, battered and weary to the soul. She'd expected to hide herself away within the World Forge and lick her wounds -- both physical and emotional -- until she could face the world again.

  But the Salamandars had other ideas. No sooner had she arrived, Phoenix Book in tow, than they put her to work memorizing the entire Book. And then, to her shock and horror, they sent her back out here, to the Eleshau. Sala claimed the next step in her journey as one of the Chosen lay beyond this forest.

  Telyn swallowed hard. She wasn't even sure there was anything beyond the Eleshau. Legend told of a land beyond here -- a mystical land peopled by beings from the stars, and Majikal creatures few had ever seen. Other stories declared the continent dropped off sharply into the roiling riptides of the ocean, just past the forest. That, storytellers said, was why no one who entered the forest ever returned.

  Still, vengeance and duty were stronger allies than fear, and she picked up a familiar trail at the edge of the forest. A trail that made her blood boil. She should have known the bloody Rahians wouldn't follow instructions. They were a warrior race -- superstitious, but not nearly as easily cowed as the Katarie. Well, she made the Rahian general a promise, and she fully intended to carry it out. These Rahians were dead, whether there was anything beyond the forest or not. She'd see to it.

  Voices murmured to her right, and Telyn's head jerked toward the sound. But even her night-friendly eyes could find no movement in the trees. She swore beneath her breath as she pulled Bloodcloud to a stop. Had she really heard something? Or was this forest playing with her mind?

  As she listened, her eyes widened and surprise pierced her trepidation. Those were definitely voices. They were distant, and male. One sounded younger, while the other had a vaguely familiar cadence and accent, though she didn’t understand a word they spoke. She frowned. How could she recognize a voice, out here? She didn't know anyone who would venture into the Eleshau.

  Listening closer, she caught words, and was further surprised to realize she did understand every word of it. They were speaking Tagalic!

  What were Borderlanders doing this far inside the forest? Curious, Telyn turned Bloodcloud toward the sound, even as one of the voices grew steadily closer.

  *****

  The Eleshau was his favorite place. Here, even the trees whispered to him, and he felt more at home than even in the Holy Temple. Paduari Huratsan drew a deep breath of forest air, and savored the aroma of crisp forest and bitter under-note of rotting vegetation. Yes, the Eleshau was definitely his favorite place, and autumn was his favorite season.

  "Hoy, Paduari!" The familiar voice drew his attention, and the subtle blend of amusement and annoyance remained unchanged from his childhood memories. Never mind the man it belonged to -- his cousin and childhood friend -- changed so dramatically over the eniane. Still... Paduari grinned. It was good to have Marakai home, again.

  "Aye?"

  "Find some firewood, would you? It'll be dark soon, and these woods aren't the place to be left in the dark."

  Paduari glanced around. "Aye. Marakai?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I had another dream, last night."

  Silence met this proclamation, and Paduari watched Marakai's grey-green gaze sweep the edge of the clearing repeatedly, as if he waited for some dastardly monster to appear from the shadows.

  "Marakai?" Still no response. "Marakai. Are you listening to me?"

  Marakai's gaze turned his way briefly, a frown on the older man's face. "Aye, Paduari. Can you get the firewood, now? Then you can tell me all about your visions, in the comfort of a warm, glowing fire."

  Paduari sighed heavily as he left the camp circle, muttering, "Aye."

  As he picked his way through the snapping b
ramble and deadly boartooth, Paduari couldn't keep his mind on the task. It kept straying back to the revelations of his recent dreams. They'd already begun to come true. He dreamed of Marakai's return, moons ago, only to have his cousin suddenly appear out of the Eleshau one misty morning, as if emerging from another world.

  Prophetic dreams weren't unusual for Paduari. Grandam Tarlae claimed he had the blood of Saphiu, though his mother always hushed such talk before Grandam could tell him anything worthwhile about the family history. All he was left with, since childhood, were dreams that had an eerie way of coming true.

  Yet, no one believed him when he tried to warn them about the dark power brewing on the other side of the Slephian Portal. No one wanted to hear about his nightmares when the Anieni, Sehidhe, materialized through the same portal. Instead, they ignored him and embraced her coming as a portent of great fortune.

  Paduari felt no triumph in having his nightmares vindicated. Over the past decade, the Anieni's priests worked Her evil will, using terrible force and bloody ritual to brainwash the people of Lurudan to believe the power of the Anieni unquestionable, given by an ancient power known as the One Will. Those who spoke against Her or the One Will were taken away, never to be seen or heard from, again. Fear of the threat against him drove Orandi Arslanibine to make her only son promise he would never utter another word about his dreams. He knew she feared he would be taken away or killed, just as Grandam Tarlae was, in the end.

  From birth, the most recent generation of Lurudani were initiated to the ways and mysteries of Sehidhe. The power of the Anieni was said to be unquestionable and more ancient than any, except the One Will she served. Paduari knew it was just her priests talking, the eniane of absolute rule by the powerful sorceress. Among those old enough to recall life before the Anieni, the fear of what would happen if one opposed the Anieni kept the Lurudani population silent and submissive. Fear drove the Lurudani faith and pride deep underground.

  But Paduari refused to be silent. He recalled other stories of his youth. The tales his grandam told when he was but a boy of seven. She wove tales of lands beyond the dark, forbidden wood of Eleshau. One land, she had said, was ruled by a people of earthly greatness. Warriors of honor and a people of great deeds who had carved their world not in fear, but in the understanding that too much peace invariably led to war, but too much war never led to peace. Another land, as he remembered, was ruled by another sort of people, whose lifeblood was the power of Majik. As Grandam Tarlae had told, a mighty feud arose many eniane ago between these two brave peoples, whom she called the Houses of Bathron and Gild. Repeatedly, Paduari asked her what became of them, how the feud was ended, but she had only shaken her head and told him the Bathron and Gild had still been divided when the time of the Eneleba -- the Great Darkness -- came to Lurudan.

  At the moment, the feud and its source were unimportant. All Paduari saw of importance in the stories was they had believed. The Bathron possessed many gods, as the stories went, and the Gild held a Majik ruled by a divine fate they called Kishfa. But they had it. Paduari was sure those two ancient houses held the key to Lurudan's dilemma. His parents were wrong to assume the Anieni would last forever. They had to be wrong. There was more to life than the will of Sehidhe.

  Marakai would understand -- he was sure of it. Unlike most of Lurudan, Marakai saw the world beyond the Eleshau. He'd returned to Lurudan changed in ways Paduari still didn’t fully comprehend.

  "They're wrong," Paduari muttered aloud as his thoughts turned again to his parents and their narrow beliefs, even as he added a final stick to his pile.

  "Talking to yourself, boy?"

  The voice was guttural, unfamiliar, and sinister, speaking Tagalic -- a language Paduari learned at his grandam's knee, even before Sehidhe's minions made it the spoken language of Lurudan.

  Paduari glanced around as panic closed like a fist around his heart. Somehow, in his musings, he wandered from the relative safety of the newer trails, and now a band of trolls in the armor of the Anieni's Legion blocked his return to the camp circle.

  Paduari grabbed for his skinning knife, only to realize he wasn't carrying it. The hazy memory of dropping it into his pack earlier in the morning came to him, and his heart pounded painfully against his ribs. He had no weapon. Now what?

  His gaze fell to the armload of wood he dropped when the troll's voice first startled him out of his musings. Surely there was one large enough to use as a club or staff. A long branch about the thickness of his arm caught Paduari's eye, and he lunged for it, yelling a call-to-arms at the top of his lungs as he did. Hopefully, Marakai would hear him and come to his aid.

  The trolls retreated a step, startled by his unexpected cry, then doubled over in howling, ursine laughter. The biggest of them, probably their leader, drew his sword and stepped up to Paduari, a hideous grin twisting his monstrous face. Drawing a deep breath, Paduari brought the branch around level, as if holding a long lance.

  "I'm warning you, sir, I'm not alone in this wood, and I'm not afraid of you, or of the Anieni," he said gravely, pleased his voice remained steady. In truth, he was terrified of these creatures. There were twelve of them, which were bad odds to begin with, but their huge, bear-like heads and wicked canine teeth were things of children's nightmares. Each stood a single height with Paduari, except the leader, who stood a full hand taller. The trolls were, however, both twice his bulk and wearing heavy iron armor, while he wore only a light leather-vested shirt and dhoti. Each troll also carried a sword the length of Paduari's arm, and twice its width. Paduari swallowed, wondering if even Marakai's help would be enough.

  "Not afeared of Her Eminence, is he?" one of the trolls -- Eternal One help him, but they all looked the same! -- growled, tilting its head and squinting to see him better in the dimming light.

  "Not afeared of us neither, the fool," another agreed.

  "Silence!" The leader barked, and the rest fell back another step. Looking back at Paduari, the troll's face twisted up in another terrifying grin. "Now, then, young pup. You said you weren't alone. If you came from that camp," the troll jerked a thumb toward the camp circle, "we've already met your friend. So, now, who are your friends?"

  "I am," a voice cut in from the trees, and a woman on horseback rode into the clear. Paduari gaped in shock. He'd never seen her in his life. She had lightly tanned skin, high cheeks, hair glinting shades of gold and brown as if caught by firelight, and eyes a lavender hue unlike any he had ever seen, lit like a cat's, from within. She wore tight leather pants, a loosely-bloused shirt and leather jerkin, with a band of cloth bearing what looked to be an insignia tied around her upper right arm. If it was, it was one he had never seen before. Some sort of bird, stitched in bright plumes made to resemble flames.

  From an open-ended saddle case just over the horse's flank peeped the end of an elaborately carved and painted bow, and next to it, a quiver of red-fletched arrows. A strange sword, which glowed even through the sheath, hung at her side.

  The trolls turned to look at her, as well, and Paduari heard several of them squeal.

  "The witch!" one yelped, and disappeared into the thicket again.

  The rest followed in rapid succession, until their leader was left standing alone. Scowling, he bellowed after them, "Come back, you fools!"

  "Figures I'd find you rotten Rahian thugs this side of the Eleshau, too. Always did go for wholesale slaughter, didn't you? Unless, of course, it's your own," the woman observed in a deceptively disinterested voice, swinging down from her mount. "As for you, old monster," she addressed the leader as she turned, her open hand falling near the hilt of her still-sheathed weapon. "I warned you what would happen if I ever found you outside your borders, again."

  The troll growled, a line of drool dangling from his curled lip, as he swung to face her. "I don't know how you got here, Bathron witch, but I'll gladly cut your anaqueri from your lifeless fingers."

  She laughed darkly. "Planning to kill me with your stench, monster? Come at me."


  The troll let out a bellow of rage as he rushed her. Paduari clapped his hands over his ears, and stared in astonishment at the woman. She still hadn't drawn her sword, holding her ground with a defiant sneer on her face. If she knew even a second's fear, it never so much as flickered through her glowing lavender eyes. He held his breath, wondering if this woman was just plain mad, or if she truly was the witch the trolls seemed convinced she was. The troll was a body's length away, and closing, when she finally opened her hand to reach for her sword. Her hand wasn't even halfway to the hilt when the sword flashed from sheath to hand, glowing as though lit by a thousand suns.

  Paduari blinked, certain he imagined the whole thing. She must just be very fast. The meeting of blades shocked him back to the fight, and he watched in awe as the warrior-woman's sword sent light flying along her opponent's blade like a hundred little lightning bolts. The troll let loose a roar of agony, and staggered back as if blinded. The woman pressed her advantage and, in one flash of her blade, impaled the terrifying creature before her. The troll roared one last time and Paduari flinched at the heavy thud it made as it toppled to the ground.

  Paduari looked between her and the smoking body of the troll, his mouth moving silently. Finally, he managed, "You... you just... well, I don't really know what you did, but you saved my life. Thank you."

  She shrugged. "I've been following their trail for the past two days. Blasted difficult in this wretched forest, but I'm glad I caught up with them before they killed anyone else."

  Paduari swallowed hard. "Would they have done that?"