Path of Blood Read online

  Praise for Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Path of Honor

  “A stubborn, likable heroine.”

  —Kristen Britain

  “An appealing magical fantasy tale featuring a stubborn, independent heroine.”

  —Baryon Online

  “Well plotted and exhibiting superior characterization, it is definitely a worthy sequel that Path of Fate readers will want to read.”

  —Booklist

  Path of Fate

  “Plausible, engrossing characters, a well-designed world, and a well-realized plot.”

  —Booklist

  “I thoroughly enjoyed Path of Fate by the talented Diana Pharaoh Francis and look forward to more of the adventures of Reisil and her goshawk, Saljane.”

  —Kristen Britain, bestselling author of Green Rider

  “This is an entertaining book—at times compelling—from one of fantasy’s promising new voices.”

  —David B. Coe, award-winning author of Seeds of Betrayal

  “In this delightful debut, Diana Pharaoh Francis caught me with a compelling story, intrigued me with the magic of her ahalad-kaaslane, and swept me away with her masterful feel for the natural world.”

  —Carol Berg, critically acclaimed author of Daughter of Ancients

  ROC

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  First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, May 2006

  Copyright © Diana Pharaoh Francis, 2006

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-03446-0

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  For Tony, for all you do

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Path of Blood is the end of a trilogy. It has been a lot of fun to write in this world and about these characters. It seems appropriate to look back to all those who helped me in so many ways to write this book—who gave me time, space, encouragement, medical treatment, help with research, second and third pairs of eyes, advice, friendship, and plain old love. So let me first thank Tony, Quentin, and Sydney. Likewise Bill and Vi Pharaoh, David and Linda Francis, Megan Glasscock, Sharman Horwood, Elizabeth Covington, Lucienne Diver, Gerald Dorros, Gus Varnavus, Pat Grantham, Carol Berg, Fighter Guy and the Roundtable, Kevin Kvalvik, Mindy Klasky, Lyn McConchie, Kristen Britain, David Coe, Jennifer Stevensen, M. Jean Harvey, the entire Cox clan, Jack Kirkley, Alan Pollack, Ray Lundgren, Tiffany Yates, Debbie Sporich, and Kathryn LaFerriere.

  I’d like especially to thank Jennifer Heddle and Liz Scheier. Jen bought these books and had faith that I could pull them off. Liz adopted me after Jen left and has been a great editor and very enthusiastic about my books.

  And last, and most important of all, thank you to all of you who have bought my books and read them. You are my heroes. I couldn’t do this without you. Don’t forget to visit me at www.sff.net/people/di-francis. Thanks to you, there will be more books coming.

  I know there are some whose names I’ve forgotten here, and for that I apologize. I wish I had a better memory.

  Chapter 1

  Tapit wasn’t dead.

  Reisil drove her sweat-drenched gelding across the scree, her heart thundering in her chest. She felt a sickening lurch as the rocky slope began to roll away beneath them. Ahead, Yohuac’s horse—formerly Tapit’s—bounded onto firm ground and galloped into the trees.

  Indigo twisted, his haunches sliding as he scrabbled over the tumbling rocks. He neighed: a desperate, braying sound. Reisil leaned forward, catching at the rolling scree with a net of magic. She gasped at the pain, the magic flowing through her. She grinned fiercely as the rocks firmed into a stony carpet. Indigo lunged to safety with a groan. Reisil reined him in and swung around.

  Tapit appeared from behind an outcropping. Quickly, Reisil let the magical net unravel. The freed rocks thundered down the escarpment between them. In the same heartbeat, Reisil reached out to Saljane.

  ~Where are you?

  The image of a glittering snow-covered peak whirled across Reisil’s mind’s eye, followed by a pastiche of blue sky, trees, and Baku’s reptilian shape.

  ~With Baku. Mysane Kosk is not far. Saljane paused. He comes?

  The fear in Saljane’s mindvoice stung Reisil like a nettle. It was the only thing the goshawk feared: Tapit and his ilgas and losing her tie to her ahalad-kaaslane. Reisil glared across the churning stones. The wizard wore his hood down around his shoulders. His features were sharp and austere beneath his bristle of dark hair. She felt his dour gaze on her like a coal-hot brand.

  Her hands tightened on her reins. Indigo snorted and took a step back.

  ~He’s here.

  Saljane clutched at Reisil’s mind with iron talons.

  ~Watch well, she urged, her voice sounding wire-thin.

  ~I will, beloved.

  Reisil held her magic ready. Her skin prickled. She darted a glance about herself. She couldn’t let him drop an ilgas on her. If he did, she would be helpless. Infinitely worse, she’d be cut off from Saljane. The prospect was unbearable. Never again would she let Tapit do that to her. Her fist knotted. How much she would love to drive it down his throat! But she didn’t dare try. Not now. Too much was at stake, and she was too weak.

  She eyed the scree. It wouldn’t hold him long. Tapit was relentless. But his horse was as tired as Indigo, and it appeared the wizard had outstripped his companions. That might give Reisil the advantage she needed.

 
; “Don’t stop running now. I was looking forward to a better fight than this,” Tapit taunted through the dusty haze left behind by the slide.

  “You haven’t caught me yet. And don’t forget I destroyed your stronghold,” Reisil retorted.

  “The stronghold still stands, and only a handful of us lost. We are eager for your return.”

  His gloating words sent a tremor through Reisil. The stronghold still stood? It wasn’t possible. She’d seen . . .

  She’d seen the entry valley cave in when she’d driven a spear of pure power deep into the mountain’s core. She’d seen rubble falling over the small group of defenders as the ground leaped and buckled. The stronghold had been crushed. Hadn’t it? But then again, she’d thought she’d killed Tapit, too. Fear slithered like a snake in her gut. She was counting on having crippled the wizards so that she wouldn’t have to deal with them plus the sorcerers and the Regent’s army.

  “You’re a liar!” she shouted back, refusing to let him see her doubt.

  “You shall see for yourself soon enough. You should not have run away. You belong to us. As does the property you took with you.”

  “Never. I am ahalad-kaaslane. I’ll not let you take us again. And if I haven’t destroyed the stronghold, I’ll come back and do it. That much I can promise you.”

  “Ah, yes. Ahalad-kaaslane.” He said it the way one would speak of a rat infestation. “Where is your bird? That was our mistake. To be one of us, you must be rid of your pet.”

  “To be one of you?” Reisil repeated, her mouth dropping open.

  “Of course.”

  Reisil’s teeth cracked together as she snapped her mouth shut. She shook her head in disbelief. “After all of you I’ve killed? You’re howling mad.”

  “We know how to muzzle your bite. You will be made to heel.”

  He sounded so sure, so smug. Anger flamed in Reisil, and power crackled around her fingers. She would never succumb to them again. Her lip curled and she pulled her arm back, feeling the magic surging through her. But reason caught her. She balled her fist, forcing the power down with effort. “How do you think you’ll catch me? I know about the ilgas. I won’t walk into that trap again.”

  Tapit smiled. It was the first time Reisil could ever remember seeing such an expression cross his basalt features. Fear screwed through the marrow of her bones.

  “Not that trap, no.”

  Reisil recoiled, then felt a small smile begin. He loved the hunt, the struggle. Don’t stop running now. . . . He wanted her to sweat, to fear, to fight. He relished it. So much so that he wasn’t going to even try to use his power against her in a head-on battle. That wasn’t sporting. He wanted to match wits, to finesse her, to draw this hunt out. And she was happy to oblige. It gained her time.

  And she’d begin right now.

  ~Baku?

  The coal-drake’s awareness bubbled in her mind. His presence was muted, as if he had to push through a dense, fibrous mist to reach her. The effects of the magic leaching from Mysane Kosk. It was the reason he hadn’t been able to speak with their friends who camped near the destroyed city. He couldn’t tell Juhrnus they were coming, or ask for help. But it also meant that Tapit would have a harder time tracking them. The wizard had the ability to sniff out their magic footprint, but soon it would be smothered by the tide of magic rolling out of Mysane Kosk. It was the reason Reisil had sent Baku and Saljane ahead: to hide them from Tapit and to warn those gathered at Mysane Kosk that she was coming.

  ~I have an idea, but I need your help. Can you do it? she sent to Baku, picturing for him what she wanted him to do.

  The coal-drake did not respond immediately. Reisil got the impression he was considering whether he wanted to help her. She held her breath. He had every right to resent her. If only she had learned faster, if only she could have rescued him from the wizards sooner. But she hadn’t known what to do, and instead she’d been forced to watch silently as Kvepi Debess tortured Baku. Sometimes she had even helped. It had been the only way to discover the key to unlocking the prison spells. It wasn’t until later that she could tell Baku, and by then their delicate trust was ruined.

  ~Can you do it? she pressed gently.

  When his answer came, he sounded hollow.

  ~It will be difficult. The magic thickens here. . . . I will try.

  ~Hurry.

  Reisil waited, watching not Tapit, but his leggy roan mare. The horse tossed her head, ears twitching. Then suddenly she leaped into the air, twisting and bucking. The wizard gave a startled yell and fell onto the scree. The hillside began to roll again. The mare came down and bolted, disappearing over the ridge. Tapit tumbled down the slope like a bundle of rags.

  ~She won’t soon trust him again, came Baku’s smug voice.

  ~Well-done, Reisil said, following Yohuac’s trail into the trees. By the time Tapit could bespell the mare to stop, he’d have a good walk to retrieve her. It gave them a little breathing room.

  “A very little,” Reisil muttered.

  Yohuac was waiting just inside the trees. He smiled crookedly at her scowl. His scalp gleamed white through the stubble of his hair. Scars showed livid on his head and neck. There were plenty more hidden by his clothing.

  “You shouldn’t have waited.”

  He shrugged.

  Reisil blew out a tense breath. “Come on then. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

  She took the lead, angling down a steep ravine and following it up across a ridge. Clouds thickened above, and as evening approached, a heavy, solid rain began to fall. She looked back at Yohuac. He had begun to list to the right, his hands clamped around the pommel, his shoulders bowed. He couldn’t keep on much longer. Reisil swallowed her frustration. He was doing all he could. The wizards had nearly killed him. It was a lot that he could sit a horse at all. She scanned the wood slope, angling up along the ridge. They would have to stop and rest, and hope Tapit didn’t overtake them in the night.

  As darkness fell, the two found a traveler’s pine and took shelter under its sweeping boughs, staking the horses out in a nearby clearing.

  Reisil dug a hole and built a tiny fire. She set a pot over it and made a hearty soup of roots and dried meat, crumbling stale acorn cakes into it. “I can’t wait to eat some real bread,” Reisil said to Yohuac, who sat shivering beneath both their blankets. “And hot kohv. With nussa spice.”

  “The bread I would like. But you may keep your kohv,” he said, accepting the cup of soup and wrapping both his hands around it.

  “That’s right. You like that other stuff—what do you call it?”

  “Xochil. It has . . . character.”

  “Mmm. I don’t much care if my kohv has character.”

  “Your kohv is like—It’s like the sun without heat, without flame. Xochil lights fire to the soul.”

  “Sounds unsettling.”

  “Someday you will try it and see.”

  Reisil finished eating and scooted over next to him, curling close against his side. He put an arm around her shoulders and snugged the blankets around her. Soon their shared warmth permeated them both. Yohuac’s hands began to wander over her, absently at first, and then earnestly. Reisil caught them.

  “You need to rest. You are still not well.”

  Yohuac’s dark eyes shone like polished onyx. “I am well enough for this.” He bent and kissed her. Reisil kissed him back. She pushed aside his clothing, grappling him close against her, his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingers. There was an urgency to their lovemaking. They hadn’t lain together since Tapit had sent them fleeing; neither knew when they’d have the chance again.

  Time was running out.

  Reisil nestled against Yohuac’s side, their legs tangled together. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. She stared up at the branches overhead. Time was running out, and she had no solution to Mysane Kosk. She’d thought about nothing else since escaping the wizards, and she still had no ideas.

  She sighed and sat up, pulling her clot
hes on. She crawled out from under the drooping branches of the great pine, needing to be out under the sky. The rain had settled into a soft drizzle. Mist wound through the trees. The pungent scents of pine, hemlock, and cedar filled her nose as she drew a cleansing breath. She closed her eyes, listening to the patter of the rain on the trees, the rush of the wind through the treetops, and the trickle of water across the ground.

  She wondered where Tapit was. Her stomach tightened and she scanned the tree line. Nothing. She turned and climbed up the slope to the top of the ridge. There was nothing to see. The mist filled the hollows and valleys in softly glowing gauze. Gray hid the moon and stars. She sat down on a boulder, unmindful of the rain soaking her clothes.

  She didn’t know how long she sat before Yohuac appeared out of the drizzling wet like a ghost. He settled beside her, not touching. She was glad of that.

  “What good am I if I can’t figure out what to do?” she demanded suddenly, the sudden sharpness shattering the rhythmic peace of the rain. She flushed hotly and clamped her lips together. But the words were coming now and she couldn’t stop them. “It all seems impossible. Like a lock without a key.” Reisil dug her fingers through her hair. “The Lady told me I have judgment, that I’m capable of making the right choices for Kodu Riik. But the Lady was wrong. I don’t know how to stop the plague or the spell the wizards cast. And now Tapit is chewing at our heels.”

  “You will find a way. I am certain.”

  “And if I don’t? Kvepi Debess said that I wasn’t really a healer. That I was better at destroying. Battlemagics, he said. What if that’s true? Right now Kodu Riik and Mysane Kosk need healing. What if I can’t do it?”

  “Then all will be remade. Nothing we care about will remain.”