The Silvered

Tanya Huff - Author

Paperback: Mass Market | $7.99 | add to cart | view cart
ISBN 9780756408060 | 496 pages | 05 Nov 2013 | DAW | 6.49 x 4.29in | 18 - AND UP
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"When wild and mage together come, one in six or six in one, Empires rise or empires fall, the unborn child begins it all."

It began with the prophecy made by the Imperial Soothsayer, a prophecy that had Emperor Leopald's army bent on conquering the small kingdom of Aydori. For Aydori was ruled by the Hunt Pack--shape changers who took the form of wolves-- and the Mage-pack--masters of the six disciplines: air, fire, water, earth, metals, healing.

With its allies defeated, nothing stood between Aydori and the invading Imperials but its own troops, led by the Hunt Pack and aided by magecraft. What no one could have anticipated were the emperor's new weapons--from hot air balloons, to highly destructive long-range rockets, to guns loaded with the silver bullets so deadly to the Pack.

Even as his troops wreaked havoc on a broad front, the emperor sent a small group deep into Aydori territory to capture the six pregnant mages of the prophecy, using ancient magical devices that could nullify their powers, leaving them helpless prisoners. It should have been a foolproof scheme. Captain Sean Reiter and his squad of Imperial soldiers easily captured five women of the Mage-pack, including the wife of the Pack Leader. Yet the prophecy said they needed six mages.

So, while the majority of the squad headed back to the capital with their prize, Captain Reiter and a smaller group continued their search. And they came across Mirian Maylin.

A student at the mages' univeristy, Mirian had scored incredibly high in the testing, but all she had accomplished after a year of studying was to qualify at the first level in five of the six disciplines when she should have been achieving mastery in one. She was told not to return for further schooling. So when she witnessed the enemy capturing five women of the Mage-pack, Mirian had no choice but to head for the battlefront to report the kidnapping to the Pack Leader.

On the way, she fell prisoner to Reiter and his men. And it was only thanks to the intervention of the Pack Leader's younger brother, Tomas Hagen, that Mirian escaped. Tomas brought devastating news--news that sent the two of them on a desperate race to rescue the captured mages before they reached the capital.

But even as they pursued the squad, they were being pursued by Captain Reiter. While Mirian and Tomas journeyed through progressively more hostile lands, she worked relentlessly to improve her mage-craft and achieve control over her spells, leaving an all-too-obvious trail of incidents that could not be ignored.

The Mage-pack captives themselves were doing everything they could to escape before the emperor could implement his horrible plans for them and their unborn childrend, but time was running out. And even if Mirian and Tomas reached the capital before it was too late, what chance did they have against an ancient maic, the latest scientific advances, and a mad emperor's entire army?

SENSES NEARLY OVERPOWERED by the scent of sweat and gunpowder and onions, Tomas followed his nose through the 1st Aydori Volunteers, searching for his greatcoat. When his uncle, Lord Stovin, had ordered the Hunt Pack out before dawn, Tomas had left his coat folded on Lieutenant Harry Kyncade’s saddle, up out of the dew. His cousins might think it funny to hide his uniform, mask the scent, force him to hunt it out, to go naked or stay in fur, but not Harry. Since their first days at school, they’d been as inseparable as duties and responsibilities allowed, and Tomas trusted Harry to keep safe the only clothing he had with him.

Unfortunately, the 1st—along with the remains of the armies from the overrun Duchies of Pyrahn and Traiton— had moved into battle formation while he was gone and Tomas had only a vague idea where Harry was.

He felt the soldiers’ attention on him as he passed. They might not know for certain who he was, but, given that he currently looked like a black wolf, they knew what. For many of them, this had to be the first time they’d seen a member of the Pack so close. Because they couldn’t know how acute his hearing was, he chose to ignore comments on his size, his color, and the unfortunate fact he had burrs in his tail.

“Finally decided to join us, Lord Hagen?” Harry’s voice cut through the ambient noise.

Tomas raised his head. Harry stood by his pony, a little apart from his men, holding the missing greatcoat.

Two quick steps and a leap over the head of a sitting soldier, too startled to do anything but swear, put him at Harry’s side. He changed and turned at Harry’s gesture, allowing the other man to slide the sleeves up over his arms, grimacing as the fabric came in contact with filthy skin. He needed a long bath and the vigorous application of a scrub brush.

“If you mean did I decide to spend the remainder of the day sitting around with you doing nothing,” he replied, tightening the belt and turning, “then, yes.”

“Then I’m thrilled to give the pleasure of my company.” Reins looped over the crook of his elbow, Harry straightened Tomas’ collar. “Where were you? Off chasing rabbits?”

“I wish.” Not that he’d have objected to a rabbit; the duckling he’d grabbed on the riverbank hadn’t been much of a meal. “Scouts got sent out just before dawn.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose until they almost disappeared under the edge of his plumed shako. “And?”

“And nothing,” Tomas admitted. He nodded across the river at the Imperial army lined up and waiting, helmets gleaming in the afternoon sun. “They had sharpshooters with those new rifled muskets stationed along both flanks. Shitheads were shooting anything that moved. No one could get close.”

“They shot at you?” Eyes, flecked with Fire-mage red, gleamed as Harry ruffled Tomas’ hair. “But you’re so adorable.”

“Shut up.” At eighteen, he remained slight enough he could pass in low light as a very large black dog, but he drew the line at adorable. Leaning against the shoulder of Harry’s pony, he scratched at the mud drying on his left foot. The Imperial army would have expected scouts from upstream, so he’d crossed downstream where the banks were marshy and found himself expected anyway. “They’re waiting for something.”

“Really?” Harry snorted, and gestured expansively at the surrounding Volunteers, who pointedly ignored both young men. “I wouldn’t have guessed, given that we’ve been waiting for them. This is no way to run a war.”

Straightening, Tomas rolled his eyes. “Next time I talk to my uncle, I’ll tell him you think you could do things better.”



They turned together to stare at the command post. Harry’s men had taken up a position close enough to command that Tomas could see Lord Stoven, one bare foot up on a stump, talking with General Krystopher, military commander of the Duchy of Pyrahn. General Lamin, leader of the Traitonian army, was conspicuously absent.

General Lamin had a problem with the Pack and had been heard to refer to them as no more than vicious animals.

Lord Stoven had been forced to show teeth to prevent the younger members of the Hunt Pack from provoking an incident. As it was, Tomas knew for a fact that after the no more than vicious animals comment made the rounds, his cousin Jared had honored the Traitonian Lancers with a visit, panicking their horses. The sturdy mountain ponies used in Aydori were exposed to the Pack from birth, but nothing panicked enemy—or allied—cavalry like a large predator suddenly up close and personal.

Before the Duchy of Traiton had been overrun by the Imperial army, General Lamin’s prejudices hadn’t mattered much. But the Imperial army had pushed the retreating Traitonian army over the border into Pyrahn and kept pushing until the elderly Duke of Pyrahn had brought his grandchildren into Aydori for safety and asked for help. Where only a few short months before there’d been two independent Duchies as a buffer between Aydori and the Kresentian Empire, now there was a river. And not a very deep river at this point, Tomas noted.

There was a bridge about a quarter mile southeast, but the Imperial commanders had concentrated the bulk of their forces at the shallows rather than be caught in the shooting gallery the bridge and the road, deep in a rock cut, would become. In answer, the 1st Aydori and the Hunt Pack had set up on the ridge across from them. The ground angling down to the river was rocky and steep, but the Hunt Pack didn’t care and the 1st held the high ground—they could wait for the Imperials to come to them.

Tomas frowned across the river. Adding insult to injury, they weren’t facing even an entire division of the Imperial army. Of the three divisions, the regiments that made up the Shields never left the heart of the Empire, the Spears were quelling rebellion in the northeast, so the emperor had only the Swords to aim at Aydori. Or those Swords not bringing the Imperial boot down on the recently conquered Duchies, at any rate.

“I wonder if that’s why they’re hanging back so far.” Squinting didn’t bring their colors into any better focus, but there had to be cavalry. There was always cavalry. “So their horses don’t spook if the wind comes back up.” There’d been heavy gusts of wind in the early morning, but, by the time the sun reached its highest point, the air was barely moving.

“Possible. But it looks like mostly infantry and artillery over there. You don’t end up ruling most of this continent by being stupid enough to send horses against you lot.” Harry bumped Tomas’ shoulder. When Tomas growled softly, Harry laughed. “Yeah, you’re tough. Besides, even if they were loitering about close enough for our nine pounders to reach their lines, that’d still be too far for an Air-mage to send scary wolf scent.”

“If they were close enough for our artillery to hit them, their artillery could hit us.”

“And that,” Harry snorted, “is pretty much the whole point of war.”

“Danika could do it.”

“To my knowledge, your sister-in-law has no experience with artillery.”

“What?” Tomas twisted and stared. “Is your hat too tight again? I meant that Danika could send our scent across to them!”

Harry grinned.

Tomas felt his cheeks heat. Harry had never let differences in social standing stop him from pulling Tomas’ tail. “Oh, bite me!”

“Not likely. You bite back. Besides, moot point,” Harry reminded him. “Your brother would never allow Lady Hagen anywhere near a battle in her condition, no matter how powerful an Air-mage she was.”

“True.” Tomas sighed and returned to trying to force an explanation for the delay by power of will. He hated waiting.

“Maybe the Imperials took one look at us and were so scared they shit themselves and we’re waiting for the laundry to return their trousers.”

“They didn’t smell scared.”

“Joke, you ass.” Harry drove his elbow into Tomas’ ribs. “If we don’t move soon, the sun’ll be against us. Go tell Lord Stoven I’m willing to lead a sortie against their lines. Draw them out. Prove to him I’m the right man for Geneviene.”

“You haven’t enough mage-craft for the artillery,” Tomas told him, elbowing back. Most of the Fire-mages in the army were artillery, but poor Harry hadn’t been able to pass muster. “What makes you think you have enough mage-craft for Geneviene?”

“Love makes my fire burn hotter.”

“Oh, puke. She’s probably going to marry Gregor.”

“What’s he got that I don’t?”


“I hope he gets mange,” Harry muttered sulkily. “I hope he . . .”

Raising a hand to cut Harry off, Tomas stepped forward. “Something’s happening.”

A pale blue bulge rose above the heads of the closest Imperial ranks.

“What the . . . ?”

“I don’t know.”

It continued rising until it looked like an upside-down teardrop.

“What’s that underneath it?”

“I don’t know.” Squinting, Tomas leaned forward. “A basket? Is it mage-craft?”

“If it is, it’s not like any I’ve ever heard of.”

Another time, Tomas might have needled Harry about testing too low to get into the university, but something about that thing in the air made him uneasy. “If they’ve put one of their long nines in that . . .”

“Too heavy,” Harry interrupted and, although he sounded as sure of himself as he always did, Tomas could smell the beginning of fear.

Tomas glanced over at his uncle. Lord Stoven had his eyes locked on the Imperials, one hand on Colonel Ryzhard Bersharn’s shoulder. Ryzhard, married to Stoven’s oldest daughter, was one of the most powerful Air-mages in Aydori. Not as powerful as Danika, but he was here.

After a long moment, Ryzhard shook his head.

What did that mean?

An Aydori lieutenant galloped in from the south, his pony sitting back nearly on its haunches as he hauled on the bit. Tomas thought he recognized the officer attached to General Lamin. Ears pricked forward, he tried and failed to separate words from the noise. The lieutenant was still talking when General Krystopher pulled out a telescope and turned back toward the Imperials.


“Harry.” Tomas reached out blindly, and closed his hand around Harry’s wrist. “If they’ve got a man with a telescope in that thing, they could see right into our lines. Locate our commanders.”

“Yeah?” Harry sounded calm, but then Harry always sounded calm. “And how would they get the location back to the ground?”

“Air-mage. Either up in the basket sending their voice down on a breeze or on the ground listening to the breezes and non-mage observer’s voice. Or both, just to be sure; it’s really up there.”

“The Imperials think they’re too good to use mages.”

“Then they write the coordinates on a piece of paper and drop it in a weighted pouch.”

“Fine. Doesn’t matter. We’ve already established we’re too far away for the artillery to . . .” Harry pulled free of Tomas’ grip and took a step forward, his pony following. “Now what?”

As the first few ranks of Imperial infantry peeled back, Tomas’ hands fell to his belt, working the buckle free. Whatever was about to happen, he needed to be back with Lord Stovin and he’d get there faster in fur. He saw sparks, heard a whistle . . .


Several voices.

“We’re too far for artillery!”


The blast wave slammed Tomas face-first into the ground. Something heavy landed on his right leg, pinning him. He felt it jerk from multiple impacts as he fought to get free. He could smell smoke and blood and shit and gunpowder. Over the ringing in his ears, he could hear screaming.

Finally, scraping skin off against the ground, he dragged his leg free and rolled over to see that he’d been trapped by the bulk of Harry’s pony. Its head and one shoulder missing, its body had absorbed a number of small balls of shot from a secondary explosion.


His lip curled off his teeth as he fought his way out of his sodden greatcoat and changed.

The scents separated into their component parts and his nose took him to Harry, lying in a crumpled heap against his pony’s head, both legs gone at mid thigh. He changed again—this needed hands—and grabbed up the reins to tie off the stumps.

Harry’s fingers touched his wrist. “Don’t bother.”

“You’re in no shape to cauterize them.”

“Idiot. Can’t cauterize myself.”

“Then shut up.”

“Tomi . . .”

“Shut up.”

Even in skin, he smelled Harry’s bowels let go. Felt Harry’s last breath against his shoulder. Let the reins drop from shaking fingers.


Spun on one hind foot, nails gouging the dirt, and raced for the command post. Lord Stovin would have orders. Lord Stovin would . . .

He heard another whistle.

Saw General Kystopher point. Saw Lord Stovin change.

The blast flung him head over tail.

“Huff delves into an overwhelming yet improbably seamless mix of steampunk, epic fantasy, and paranormal romance…. Huff fans who prefer her second-world fantasy tales (e.g., the Quarters series) will be pleased by this return to the form.”—Publishers Weekly
"The way that Huff tied all of the strings together from this epic journey was masterful. She paid equal attention to her characters as she did her world-building, resulting in a seamless whole. The melding of science, magic, era-specific technology, superstition, war and how ordinary people can do extraordinary things was captivating."—The Book Pushers
"[Huff] knows not only how to world build, but how to build magic systems and do phenomenal characterizations. Her experience shows on every page of The Silvered.... Books this good don’t come along that often. The Silvered is a well-planned, well executed adventure tale. I loved it. Completely."—The Ranting Dragon
"The Silvered paints a fascinating society based on the symbiosis of mage and wolf-pack, each group partnering and tempering the other."—San Francisco Book Review

"It all adds up to a fun, old-fashioned adventure made new with an interesting magic system.”—Locus

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