Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

  Instead, Melantha clenched her fists and stared Prince Rharreth down. She did not have to explain herself to him of all people.

  He snorted and set the bowl of watery soup on the floor. “He asked about you. After everything you did to him.”

  Even though he had just come from helping his brother torture Farrendel, Prince Rharreth was looking at her as if she was the disgusting, villainous one of the two of them.

  “Please. Take me to him. I can heal him.” Melantha stepped forward, her fists still clenched. If only she could just blast her power down the corridor and heal Farrendel from a distance without having to beg for this troll’s mercy for Farrendel. But she had to be touching a patient to use her magic.

  “Why would I allow you near a prisoner you wished dead not long ago?” Prince Rharreth eyed her and crossed his arms.

  “I would not...” She trailed off. She had betrayed Farrendel to this. What else had she expected?

  And yet, now that she was here, she could not stand by and listen to his screams without being moved. She was not so cold, so angry, so hateful that she could not have all her delusions stripped away beneath a cold dousing of reality.

  She had done wrong. Very, very wrong. She could not undo it. But, perhaps, she could do something to make it better, even if she could not make it right. “I could not. My healer’s oath would prevent me from harming him, even should I wish it, which I do not.”

  Prince Rharreth shook his head, his eyes cold. “Eat your supper.”

  He spun on his heel and left her cell, the door slamming shut behind him, the lock clanking into place.

  Melantha tiptoed across her cell and peered through the bars. The barred door at the entrance clanked shut behind the troll prince. At the far end, no noise came from the direction of Farrendel’s cell. Was he unconscious? The troll prince had implied Farrendel was still alive. It seemed a quick death was not in the trolls’ plan.

  She sank down against the door to her cell and picked up the watery broth. It had gone cold, sitting on the floor of her cell. She forced herself to drink it anyway, sopping it up with the crust of bread that had been stuck on the bowl’s rim.

  When she finished, she rested her head on her hands. What a mess she had made. Of her own life. Of Farrendel’s life. Why had she ever let herself be convinced that this course was the right one?

  Nothing in her life had been right from the moment her mother died. Melantha had mourned, but then...then she had been angry.

  Angry with the trolls for killing her mother. Angry at her father for falling apart as he mourned, instead of dealing with the grief the way she and Weylind had been forced to do. Angry that her father’s betrayal of her mother’s memory had ended with the scandal of an illegitimate brother abandoned on their doorstep. Angry with her betrothed for leaving her at the first sign of scandal, showing how little he had truly cared about her. Angry with the trolls for taking her father from her too. Angry with her father for dying and leaving them. Angry with Farrendel for being so...Farrendel. Broken and scarred and possessing such deadly magic that made him both revered and disdained. Angry that he had made everything worse by marrying that human princess, even if it was in the name of peace.

  So much anger. It would burn a hole through her chest if she let it.

  She buried her face in her arms and, for once in her life, she gave in to the urge and vented her anger in a muffled scream.

  ESSIE SAT IN A corner of the meeting room, listening as Edmund and the elven scouts outlined what they had learned. Judging by the way all of them alternated in their telling, with Edmund throwing in a few laughing jokes along the way, he had gained the trust and even friendship of the elven scouts.

  She shouldn’t have worried about him. Edmund could charm his way into anywhere, even as he cataloged the layout, defenses, and weaknesses at a glance.

  From Edmund’s report, King Weylind, Julien, and Edmund moved on to discuss the progress on the Tarenhieli transportation system. With Thanfardil, the elf in charge of the train system of Tarenhiel, revealed as a traitor and found dead at the border, the elves’ transportation system had been in a bit of chaos. All of Thanfardil’s underlings had been temporarily suspended as the elves sorted through those who were loyal and those who weren’t.

  As she sat and listened, she thought all of that in Farrendel’s direction. Perhaps she shouldn’t. If he could understand her words, then she was giving him information the trolls would torture him to obtain, if they realized he had it.

  But she didn’t think he felt any more than the impressions she sensed. Hopefully the sense of planning would be enough to give him hope.

  He needed it. He’d been slamming that iron wall between them in the heart bond more frequently over the past day.

  A whoosh signaled the door to the meeting room gliding open. Essie didn’t bother glancing over her shoulder. It was probably yet another elf scout or elf army officer bringing another report to add to this meeting.

  Hands settled on her shoulders. “What did I miss?”

  “Avie!” Essie shot to her feet, spun, and flung herself into Averett’s hug. “It’s only been three days. How did you get here so quickly? I thought it would take at least a week for Parliament to ratify the new treaty, authorize going to war, and prepare the army.”

  Averett’s mouth tipped into a smile. “I am the king. When I want something to get done, it happens.”

  “Oh, yes. Because playing the king card has worked so well with Parliament before.” Essie shook her head and gave another squeal and hugged him yet again. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  “Are you not happy to see me?”

  Only when she spoke did Essie finally notice that Jalissa had entered the room behind Averett. Essie waved a hand over Averett’s shoulder. “Yes. I’m so happy to see both of you.”

  “So I gathered.” Averett chuckled and turned her to face the rest of the room. Edmund and Julien were both smirking, while all the elven generals and scouts were giving her various versions of the raised eyebrow, scandalized look she got far too often from the elves. Weylind, however, looked like he was trying to suppress a smile, even as he gave her his own raised eyebrow.

  “Oh, right.” Essie gave the entire room a wry smile. Apparently shrieking loudly was a good way to interrupt a tactical meeting. “As you can see, my brother, King Averett of Escarland, has arrived.”

  Averett patted her shoulder one last time, then stepped forward. “My army is mustered at the border and just awaits word that Tarenhiel is ready to host us.”

  Weylind tipped his head in a nod. “We are ready, though a few of the preparations will take a few more days. You are here earlier than expected.”

  Somehow, Weylind managed to sound mildly affronted. As if Averett arriving early was a bad thing.

  Essie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Elves.

  Averett strolled forward and worked his way between Julien and Weylind to stand next to the table. “After one of their own turned out to be a traitor, Parliament was rather motivated to cooperate. Charles Hadley’s testimony decrying his own son’s traitorous activities and listing the number of weapons given to the trolls turned out to be particularly compelling. And the army has been prepared to rally at the border in case of an elven invasion for the past twenty years. It was simple to revise the plan to a peaceful march across Tarenhiel.”

  Essie wormed between all the elven warriors to find a place next to Edmund. Now that Averett was here, the plans could go from mere plans to actual action.

  Averett nodded to Weylind. “It will take time to gather enough steamboats and elven ships to shuttle all of my army and supplies across, but we might as well start the process. I, for one, do not want to delay.”

  “Nor do I.” Weylind clenched his fists and glanced at Essie.

  Essie pressed her hand over her chest. The iron wall was still up, but at least that meant Farrendel was still alive.

  For now.

  Essie stepped fr
om the train into the bustle of an army camp, following King Weylind. Spread out between the massive tree trunks were rows upon rows of Escarlish army tents made from a dull brown canvas. In a small clearing before the train’s stop, several officers oversaw a group of soldiers drilling, their muskets clacking first against their shoulders, then into their palms as they moved between positions.

  It was impressive, especially considering this was only one of several regiments camped in the deep forest below the Tarenhieli-Kostarian border.

  Essie adjusted the rifle hanging from its strap across her back and eased to the side to give Averett room to disembark.

  Weylind halted at the edge of the train platform, a moss-covered mound of dirt several feet higher than the surrounding forest floor. His mouth flattened as he surveyed the encampment.

  Essie halted next to him. “It must be a strange sight, seeing the Escarlish army camped in your kingdom. Your armies fought hard to keep the Escarlish army out of your kingdom fifteen years ago.”

  Weylind’s shoulders lifted with a deep breath. “It is a disconcerting sight. But necessary.”

  For Farrendel’s sake, Weylind was willing to go to great lengths. Essie would have hugged him, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

  Averett halted on Weylind’s other side. “We are allies. I know this isn’t a comfortable alliance yet, but we’re getting there. By the time this war is over, we’re going to get so used to fighting alongside each other that it will be inconceivable to fight against one another.”

  Weylind raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe that. But he did not bother contradicting Averett either. That was progress, perhaps.

  As the servants unloaded the few belongings they had taken along, Essie surveyed the camp again. Several large tents had been set up near one of the largest trees. The command tents, and royal tents for Essie and her brothers.

  It seemed strange to sleep in a tent here in Tarenhiel. She glanced upward, scanning the lower branches of the trees. She didn’t see any of the elven treehouses here, though that was not surprising. They had picked largely uninhabited areas of northern Tarenhiel for the three large encampments and their surrounding smaller camps. It would be hard enough keeping the peace between the Escarlish soldiers and the elven warriors. They didn’t want to risk any incidents with local citizens.

  Would the elven army grow temporary shelters once they arrived? If they did, she might request one for herself.

  Behind them, the train pulled away from the station, on its way to whatever the elves used to turn their trains around to send it down the parallel track back to Estyra.

  Averett hefted the small bag of personal items he’d taken with him on the train. “Let’s get settled in. I believe the next train is due in about an hour.”

  The next train would be carrying the first of the elven army assigned to this encampment. Everyone would be mustered with all due pomp and circumstance then.

  Essie nodded but hesitated, glancing at Weylind. Besides the few elven servants and the lone guard who had come with them on the train, Weylind was one of the few elves there. A stranger inside his own kingdom right now. “You are welcome to take your ease in our tents, Your Majesty, until your army arrives.”

  Weylind glanced at the tents, his lips pressing even tighter together.

  Something in his stance reminded her of Farrendel. At times, Weylind could be just as shy and reticent as his younger brother. He had just gotten better at hiding it over the years.

  After a moment, Weylind shook his head. “I believe I will begin growing my quarters.”

  “Then I guess we might as well walk in the same direction.” Essie took a step, then turned back to him when he didn’t follow. She pointed at the large trees that sheltered the Escarlish command tents. “I’m assuming you’re going to be camping out in the trees above Averett’s tent. A show of solidarity among the leaders, or something like that. Also, it would probably be safer for both concerned if Averett’s tent was the one at the base of your tree and your quarters were above his tent. Not to mention easier to fetch both of you in case an incident does break out.”

  Weylind eyed her, glanced around as if searching for Farrendel to fob her and all her talking off on him, then sighed. “Very well.”

  She wasn’t sure if she had won him over through her logic or if he simply agreed to halt the flow of her words. Either way, she had gotten him moving in the right direction rather than frozen on the train platform gawking at the Escarlish army camped within his borders.

  As they strode from the platform toward the command tents, several of the Escarlish soldiers bustling about halted to gape at King Weylind. Thankfully, none seemed too hostile. Just curious and in awe of the elven king striding through their midst.

  Essie could barely wait for the first of the elven army to arrive. An army of elves was bound to be impressive all on its own, but if she had learned anything about elves in the past few months, it was that they were not above making a grand entrance when it suited them. She suspected their arrival at the Escarlish encampment would be one of those times.

  Weylind made a soft, throat-clearing noise. “Is Farrendel still...”

  “Alive.” The sense of the heart bond was nearly a constant presence in her chest now. Was this what the heart bond had always felt like to Farrendel? “But...”

  Essie rubbed her chest. For the past few days, she had felt the way he was slipping away from her. He was dying. Not physically, though she could tell he was in pain. No, this was his mind and heart slowly dying, hardening. No matter how much encouragement she sent his way, he was turning cold. As cold as he’d been the day she’d met him.

  The iron wall slammed shut between them. Essie winced and caught her breath. She suspected Farrendel blocked her whenever he was being tortured. Just because she couldn’t feel his pain didn’t make it that much easier knowing every time he was suffering.

  Weylind halted and turned to her. “Is something wrong? You have gone pale. Should I call for a healer?”

  Essie grimaced and leaned against the nearest tree. How much should she tell Weylind? Though, he might understand more than her brothers would. “I’m getting better at sensing Farrendel though the heart bond. He’s figured out how to block me when he’s being tortured, but it still means I know when it’s happening.”

  “They are torturing him right now, are they not?” Lines grooved deep into Weylind’s face. His fingers fisted, and deep green magic swirled down his arms. The grass around his feet grew several inches.

  “Yes.” Essie swallowed and wrapped her arms over her stomach. She was normally the overly optimistic one. She could find a silver lining in anything.

  But how could she find a silver lining in Farrendel’s torture? All she wanted to do was rescue him as quickly as possible and end his suffering.

  “I see.” Weylind nodded and swept his gaze over the sprawling encampment once again. He straightened his shoulders. “We will rescue him, isciena.”

  Essie nodded, also taking in the bustle of the Escarlish soldiers setting up camp.

  Farrendel was the reason Weylind was even allowing the Escarlish army in Tarenhiel. Perhaps they could have formed an alliance against the trolls if Farrendel hadn’t been captured. But it wouldn’t have looked like this. Because of Farrendel, Weylind was willing to risk far more than he would have considered any other way.

  Farrendel, I hope you know just how much your capture has deepened this alliance.

  If there was a silver lining in his capture, this was it. The Tarenhieli-Escarlish alliance would not have made this much progress without it.

  As Weylind wandered off to select his tree for his shelter, Essie located her tent, made of deep green canvas with the royal standard flying above it. Inside, a rug covered the lush grass with a cot along the back wall, a small wood-burning stove set in the center with a pipe going through a hole in the ceiling, and a trunk with her things had been set along the sloped wall by the end of the cot.r />
  Essie set her bag on the cot. The tent appeared empty and lonely. She pressed a hand to her chest, even if the iron wall remained between her and Farrendel. As long as she had the heart bond, she wasn’t entirely alone.

  An hour later, Essie stood at the edge of the train platform next to Averett with King Weylind standing on Averett’s other side and several of Escarland’s generals standing next to her. Behind them, this division of Escarland’s army stood in stiff rows, awaiting the arrival of the elven army.

  Essie blew out a long breath, trying to ease the tightness in her stomach and chest. Why was she so nervous? Everything was going to be fine. The soldiers on both sides were disciplined enough that they weren’t going to just break out in fighting.

  That still didn’t stop her nerves. This moment needed to go just right. It would set the tone for the entire alliance and war. If all went well, the other elven armies would start arriving at the other two main encampments tomorrow.

  Essie shook herself and refocused on the train tracks. Was that a blur of silver glinting far off in the trees?

  Moments later, the silver elven train glided into view, easing to a stop alongside the platform.

  Essie pasted on her smile and swiped her hands on her trousers yet again.

  The doors on the train cars opened, and the first of the elven warriors marched from the train. Polished armor winked in the sunlight while oiled leather shone between the pieces of armor. Bows and quivers full of arrows stuck out over shoulders while some of the elves wore short, curving swords on their backs and others had longer swords strapped to their waists.

  As they marched from the train, the warriors stepped to the side and lined up in precise rows in the cleared space facing the Escarlish army. All of them wore identical, serene expressions.

  Essie caught her breath as the tall, graceful warriors continued to march from the train. There was a deadly beauty to the way the elven warriors moved, their long hair flowing over their shoulders and down their backs.