Read Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 for Free Online Page B

floor, the fletching protruding from
his back. At the same instant, one of the men securing Quentin’s arms was
propelled backwards against the warehouse wall, a bolt through his throat.
    Nukpana
lunged for Quentin, wrapping an arm around his neck, a curved knife at his
throat. The small blade Nukpana wielded glowed sickly green with a power of its
own. A pair of glowing threads snaked outwards from the tip of the blade. One
curled itself around Quentin’s throat; the other hovered above his heart. One
word from Nukpana, and what looked like two harmless tendrils of light would
instantly strike, enter Quentin’s body, and end his life. I had a pair of
daggers ready that would do the same for Nukpana the moment he drew breath to
speak that word. I crept closer, stopping just on the edge of the light.
    A
strong, clear voice came from the shadows, not twenty feet away. “Don’t move.”
    I
froze. So did everyone else. The command wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The
volume was from the warehouse’s cave-like interior—the authority came from
another source entirely. The echo of those simple words resonated with a quiet
power held in perfect check. It also doused all other magic in the room like a
bucket of cold water on a candle. It looked like Nukpana’s antics had attracted
a spellsinger. My night was just getting better all the time.
    With
the power of their voice alone—the inflection, the resonance, the charisma—a
spellsinger could influence thought with a quietly hummed phrase, or control
actions with simple speech or carefully crafted tune. The number of people
didn’t matter. One spellsinger could turn the tide of battle. Gifted
spellsingers were highly prized and sought after—not to mention rare and
dangerous. Judging from the way the tiny hairs on my arms were standing at
attention, this one could probably do virtually anything he wanted to with his
voice, and not only would his intended victim not mind in the least, they’d
probably enjoy it.
    Everyone
froze, while Quentin was left with no choice. The voice hadn’t specified who
wasn’t supposed to move, but one of the Khrynsani couldn’t take the suspense
and dove for the cover of a stack of crates. He made it, but he wasn’t alive
when he landed.
    Nukpana
shimmered with the effect of a protection spell. Its confines included Quentin.
As long as Quentin was encased in that shield, he was safe from outside harm.
Of course, that still left the goblin with access to Quentin, and me without.
    “Have
your guards drop their weapons and no one else will be harmed.” The spellsinger
paused on the edge of the shadows, and I could see the outline of a tall and
clearly fit figure.
    Shadowy
figures closed in behind the goblins and appeared along the warehouse catwalks,
positioning themselves to cover every goblin and every exit.
    “Now.”
His voice was quiet, its owner a man used to absolute authority. He stepped
into the lantern light.
    The
spellsinger was an elf in the steel gray uniform of a Conclave Guardian. I
noticed appreciatively that he wore it well. He was leanly muscled, his bearing
was military, and he was not happy. Large, dark eyes bored into Nukpana’s. I
wondered if he was as dangerous as he looked. Probably.
    Conclave
Guardians were based on the Isle of Mid, known for having the largest sorcerer
population on the continent. It was home to the most prestigious college for
sorcery, as well as the Conclave, the governing body for all magic users in the
seven kingdoms. The students were young and talented, and many were away from
home for the first time. Most Conclave officials were from kingdoms where they
had been big fish in little ponds. But the Isle of Mid was a big pond with
bigger, carnivorous fish. Students and bureaucrats, all highly gifted, all
packed together in one island city. It was a powder keg waiting to explode, and
the Guardians’ job was to keep anyone from striking a match.
    Their
sworn duty was to protect the