Free Sword of Shadows by Karin Rita Gastreich

through her shoulders. Rishona arched against him and tilted her face toward his, inviting Mechnes to enjoy the sweet taste of her lips.
    “We cannot bring down any more trees,” she murmured when he finished.
    Mechnes released her. “We must open up this road if we hope to bring a proper army through it.”
    “We risk undermining the power of this forest. We need its magic for everything that is to come.”
    “This is a very big forest.” Mechnes drew out one of their maps and passed his hand over the moss green crescent that swept north toward East Selen and south along the foothills of the Paramen Mountains. “And a very small pass.”
    Rishona stared at the map, lips protruding in a familiar, charming frown. She rubbed her arms to ward off the damp chill. Noting her discomfort, Mechnes retrieved a dry cloak and placed it around her shoulders.
    “I hope you are right,” Rishona said. “Every time we bring down a tree, I feel strength torn out of the earth. It’s as if a barrier is being broken. I fear we went too far by clearing the valley where my parents died.”
    “You are a Syrnte Princess, Rishona. Your magic derives from the air.”
    “Yes, but the creatures we hope to summon were not banished by Syrnte magic. They were imprisoned by the mages and magas of Moisehén, and they must be summoned by the same powers. I will need air to anchor my spirit, but without the earth I cannot control them.”
    Mechnes narrowed his eyes. “If you have doubts regarding your ability to manage these beasts, you should have mentioned them before now.”
    “I have no doubts.” Her retort was sharp and quick. “I know how to gratify the Naether Demons and bring them into our service. But there are many elements involved, and they must be integrated carefully. No one has attempted this before, Mechnes. Or if they have, they failed miserably, and we know nothing of their fate.”
    “I’ve poured tremendous resources into this conquest,” Mechnes growled. “I will not be pleased if you fail me.”
    Rishona met his gaze. “I will not fail. For tonight, I am most ready. And for what is to come, I have time to prepare.”
    *  *  *
    At sunset, Rishona emerged from her tent dressed in an ivory robe lined with ermine. Despite the heavy cloak, an evening chill penetrated her veins. She hoped Mechnes did not notice the tremor in her fingers as he assisted her onto her horse.
    Donatya, a priestess of Mikata brought from Ech’nalahm, accompanied them. Gold circlets adorned the old woman’s white hair and wrinkled throat. Rubies hung from her flaccid earlobes. The priestess bowed to Rishona and gestured to a small litter.
    “Everything is prepared,” she said. “Just as you commanded.”
    Rishona nodded but did not let her gaze linger on the translucent curtains that covered the litter. She knew what lay inside: an obsidian knife wrapped in silk, a white owl in a small wooden cage, flasks of fa’hin wine and armen oil, caskets of mara’luni, winter sage, white albanett, and nightshade mushrooms.
    All of this, along with her beloved servant, Merina, in a drug-induced stupor.
    As they rode out of camp, Mechnes posted guards along the way with orders to let no one pass. By the time the small procession arrived at the modest valley now cleared of trees, only Meches’s most trusted men accompanied them.
    Rishona dismounted and drew the forest air into her lungs. It was here, along this lonely mountain pass, that her mother, Tamara, and Prince Feroden of Moisehén perished in an ambush a generation ago. Were it not for their deaths, Rishona would now be a princess of Moisehén, her father in command of its fertile lands. But Rishona’s father died, and the Mage Prince Kedehen took the throne. Moisehén plunged into civil war, and in the aftermath of those tragic years, the magas were nearly exterminated.
    How much blood must be shed to set these wrongs right?
    Rishona removed her shoes and approached the place where her