Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

  Julien was still looking at her, expecting an answer.

  “Yes, it is. But I’m still worried about him. I just...” Should she share her worries that Melantha might be helping him? Or setting him up for another trap of some kind? “I just wish there was more we could do.”

  “I know.” Julien nudged her. “I think Averett wants us over there.”

  Essie glanced up. Averett was waving toward them. Jalissa, Leyleira, and Edmund all crowded around the table by Averett and Weylind, displacing a few of the generals.

  Julien shouldered his way through the crowded tent, and Essie followed in his wake. Tall, broad-shouldered brothers were handy for some things.

  When she reached the table, she squirmed into a spot next to Edmund. He gave her his own one-armed hug while Jalissa leaned around him to give Essie a small smile. Across the table, Leyleira nodded to her.

  Averett tapped the map laid out on the table, indicating the ridge along the Gulmorth River that separated Tarenhiel and Kostaria. “We march out tomorrow morning to arrive at the ridge by evening. We’ll stay hidden in the trees until dawn. Julien, you will be going with your army and will fight with our east flank. Edmund, you have the western flank.”

  “Machasheni.” Weylind glanced to Leyleira beside him. “We wish for you to take over command of the support forces here at this camp. The wounded will be evacuated to here to be stabilized before being sent to Estyra or Aldon on the train.”

  Leyleira nodded, the streak of gray in her hair shining in the lamplight.

  “Jalissa and Essie, you will come with us and stay behind at the ridge here with the support personnel.” Averett tapped the center of the line. “The triage for the wounded will be here, and you will need to make sure our supply line stays clear. Once we are in Kostaria, we plan to move quickly, and we will have to be careful we don’t outpace our supply line.”

  Essie bit her lip, studying the map. She knew letting her and Jalissa be at the site of the initial battle was already closer to the fighting than her brothers would wish her to be. Yet...She drew in a deep breath. “I need to go with you when you take Gror Grar.”

  “What? Not a chance.” Averett turned and gripped her shoulders. “I know you’ll want to be there when we rescue Farrendel, but you aren’t a soldier.”

  “I know. And I don’t intend to fight. Not like that. But...” She glanced over her shoulder at Weylind. How much would the elves wish her to say? Especially in front of the mixed group of generals.

  Weylind met her gaze before turning to her brother. “Averett Daresheni, she needs to come.”

  “What?” Averett spun. “Would you wish to place your sister in that kind of danger?”

  “No, I would not. But, for the sake of our brother, she needs to be there.” Weylind braced himself with his hands on the table. “It is because of the elishina.”

  “That heart bond thing?” Averett huffed. “It’s becoming more trouble than it’s worth.”

  The generals were shifting. The human ones were glancing at each other, as if wondering how to ask to be dismissed. The elven generals eased toward the door as if intending to sneak away.

  Essie touched Averett’s arm. “If the rest of the planning is done, maybe we should discuss this in private?”

  It was probably her fault for bringing it up in front of others in the first place.

  “Right.” Averett drew himself straight and gestured to the generals. “You’re dismissed. Please prepare the men for marching out tomorrow.”

  Weylind gave similar instructions to his elves.

  The generals nodded and marched outside until only family remained in the tent.

  Averett crossed his arms. “Now explain what you mean about why you need to be there and what it has to do with the heart bond.”

  Julien studied her without Averett’s ire while Edmund was glancing from Essie to Weylind, his forehead scrunching as if he was most of the way to figuring it out on his own.

  Essie wrapped her arms over her stomach. “If Farrendel is badly injured, I can keep him alive with the heart bond long enough for the healers to save him.”

  She wasn’t going to mention that there was a chance that if he was hurt badly enough, the attempt would kill both of them.

  “I might be able to save him from a distance. The heart bond has strengthened over the past week or so, or maybe I’ve gotten better at sensing it. I don’t know.” Not to mention that strange crackle. Essie stared down at the table. “But I’m not sure if that would work or if I would be strong enough that way or if I’d be able to pull back if...” If hanging on too tightly meant she would die along with Farrendel.

  That might sound all romantic in stories, but real life was more complicated. Dying with him would just mean both families would be mourning two people instead of one. Nor would Farrendel wish for her to die that way.

  “But you might not have to be there.” Of course Averett would latch onto that.

  “It would be a lot better if I was.” She glanced from Jalissa to Leyleira to Weylind. Surely one of the elves could explain it much better than she could. “I’m not asking to be put in the front lines. You’ll have healers and medical staff staying behind the lines in the battle. I’ll stay there.”

  “That won’t mean you’ll be safe. Armies are routed and overrun all the time.” Averett touched her arm. “If you were killed during the battle, it would shatter Farrendel. He would not wish for you to be hurt trying to rescue him.”

  No, he wouldn’t. He would want her far away and safe.

  She had to balance the risk to herself and the risk to Farrendel. If she could stay as safe as possible and be able to help Farrendel, then it would be worth it.

  “There is another reason she should come.” Weylind shifted. “Gror Grar is large, and the dungeon tunnels winding into the mountain are extensive. When we attack, we might not be able to reach him before they kill him if we wander the tunnels blindly. But there is a chance Elspetha will be able to sense where he is.”

  She could? Essie closed her eyes. Was she imagining that she could tell the general direction Farrendel was in? It was such a subconscious thing, she had not even noticed it. Yet, hadn’t she always found herself turning in that direction when she thought about him?

  “This just gets better and better.” Averett waved a hand, his arms still crossed tightly across his chest. “Not only do you want her at risk behind the battle lines, but now you want to send her into danger during the attack on the fortress of Gror Grar.”

  Essie scowled and crossed her own arms. “This is my choice, Averett. If I can help save Farrendel, then I want to try. You’ll have until the assault on Gror Grar to come up with a plan to keep me as safe as possible.”

  “Of course. That makes it so much better.” Averett’s scowl deepened.

  Julien stepped to Essie’s side. “She’ll have all of us along.”

  “We’ll keep her safe.” Edmund rested his elbow on her shoulder. “What could go wrong when she has all three of us guarding her?”

  “Four of us.” Jalissa stepped to Edmund’s side. “If Elspetha is going, then she will need another female along with whom to share a shelter.”

  Essie grinned. “I’ll be happy to have you for a bunk mate.”

  That made Weylind scowl and cross his arms.

  Averett raised his eyebrows. “See. Not so easy accepting that your sister is determined to put herself in danger, is it?”

  Essie elbowed him. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s the one thing I can do to make myself feel better.” Averett’s mouth twitched as he fought to stay frowning instead of smiling.

  Essie wrapped her arms around Edmund and Julien. This was it. Tomorrow, they would launch the attack. One step closer to getting Farrendel back.

  WHEN PRINCE RHARRETH allowed her into Farrendel’s cell the next day, Melantha ate her meal next to Farrendel, trying to make conversation. As he was still giving her frosty silence, it wa
s not working.

  After they had eaten, she convinced Prince Rharreth to let her haul buckets of water from the spring of water that trickled from the rock wall in an alcove just on the other side of the door to this wing of the dungeon.

  While Prince Rharreth led her there, she was able to get a glimpse of more of the dungeon. Not much. Just more tunnels branching off into the darkness. But at least she had learned they were deep in the warren in the mountain that formed the trolls’ dungeon.

  Not exactly helpful information, but surely Farrendel would find all information she could gather useful. If she could not bribe him into speaking to her by helping him, maybe she could with information.

  Two buckets sat next to the pool formed at the base of the steady trickle of water. Convenient for trolls fetching water for prisoners. Or washing out dungeon cells after torturing their latest victim.

  Prince Rharreth leaned against the wall, eyeing her, as she dipped first one bucket, then the other into the water. When she hefted both of them, he did not offer to help.

  As she passed him, both hands laden with full buckets, she gritted her teeth and glared. “I am not going anywhere. You could help. Unless it is beneath your dignity as a proud troll warrior.”

  His dark eyes remained hard as they focused on her, his mouth tight. “I am not prey to be baited.”

  Melantha huffed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That was a human expression she would not deign to employ, even if it was tempting. “Fine.”

  She marched through the door to the dungeon corridor. Prince Rharreth remained where he was. No sense for him to tramp back and forth when she could not go anywhere, nor could Farrendel so much as move.

  The door to Farrendel’s cell stood open, and Melantha maneuvered her way inside carrying the two buckets. Her shoulders already ached, and she let out a breath of relief when she set them down.

  Farrendel’s gaze flicked to her, and his brow furrowed.

  Melantha picked up one of the buckets. “You may wish to close your eyes. And hold your breath.”

  Farrendel squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting. It was almost comical.

  Except...he used to make that same face when he had been a toddler, waiting for Melantha to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

  A pang stabbed her chest. For all the pain of those years, there had been good times. When had Melantha forgotten that?

  She splashed the first bucket on Farrendel. He gasped and peeked up at her through the water trickling across his face. “That was cold.”

  “Sorry. It is from a spring here in the dungeon.” Melantha hefted the second bucket, paused long enough for Farrendel to close his eyes again, before she dumped that one on him as well.

  She trekked back to the spring, glared at Prince Rharreth, filled the buckets again, and tottered back to Farrendel.

  It took several more trips before Farrendel was somewhat clean and the dungeon cell no longer smelled. Melantha’s shoulders strained. Her arms hurt. Blisters formed on her fingers from the buckets’ rope handles.

  She returned to the spring and set the buckets down where she had found them. Facing Prince Rharreth, she crossed her arms, as much to give her shoulders a rest as to look tough. “Would it have killed you to help? You claim to care about honor. What is honorable about the way you and your brother are treating Farrendel? Is it honorable to torture someone and deny him the ability to so much as feed himself? You could at least give him some decency or care.”

  Prince Rharreth pushed away from the wall. “I let you take care of him, didn’t I?”

  He had. Why? It was not what he should have done. Not if he were wise.

  And she had needed to do it. Had Prince Rharreth realized that? Why would he bother trying to help her? She was his enemy, as was Farrendel. His prisoners.

  “Come.” Prince Rharreth led the way back down the dungeon corridor. Probably to lock her back in her cell.

  He opened the door to her cell and gestured.

  She stepped inside but halted. “Could I bring my blanket to Farrendel? He will be cold.”

  Prince Rharreth stilled for a moment before he nodded. “Very well.”

  She grabbed her blanket from the pile of straw in the corner where she had slept after Prince Rharreth had returned her blanket to her the day before. She also grabbed a large handful of the straw.

  Prince Rharreth did not comment as she hurried past him.

  When she stepped into Farrendel’s cell, Farrendel’s teeth were chattering, his body shivering as much as he could while pinned as he was.

  That water must have been colder than she thought. She had worked up a sweat while carrying it, but he was pinned to the cold stone floor with no way to get himself warm.

  Melantha dropped to her knees beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. His skin was icy beneath her fingers. Even though she had already expended magic to relieve his pain, she poured more magic into him, trying to give his body some warmth.

  When some of his shivering lessened, she spread the blanket over him and glanced over her shoulder at Prince Rharreth. “Could I stay with him a while? I would like to make sure he stays warm enough. I do not believe your brother would appreciate it if he died from the cold.”

  Prince Rharreth’s mouth thinned, but he nodded. “Very well. But just in case...” He pressed his hand against the wall. Icy magic flowed across the stones, and the stone by Melantha’s ankle reached up and wrapped around her.

  She hissed in a breath at the cold of the stone and the troll magic touching her, but she kept herself from making more of a reaction. Farrendel had stone wrapped around him and piercing through him. She could hardly complain about a single stone shackle holding her in place.

  When the stone had formed a shackle with a short length of stone chain, Prince Rharreth lifted his hand from the wall, and the flow of his magic cut off. “I will return this evening.”

  He spun on his heel and strode from the dungeon cell. The door clanked shut behind him, the locking bar grating into place.

  Melantha held up her smile as she listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor. She had done it. Somehow, she had talked him into not only allowing her to help Farrendel, but also letting her stay with Farrendel for several hours. Progress.

  When the sounds of footsteps faded, Melantha turned back to Farrendel.

  He was studying her, his gaze less hard and angry than it had been on her previous visits, though the wariness remained.

  “Here, lift your head.” Melantha gathered the handful of straw. When Farrendel lifted his head, she tucked the straw beneath for a pillow. “There.” The back of his head must be sore from lying against the hard stone. He probably had bruises all along his back from lying in the same position against rock for so long.

  Melantha settled beside him, tucking her legs beneath her to keep her own toes warm. The stone chain rattled as she moved, the shackle cold against her skin. She rested her hand on Farrendel’s shoulder again, pouring more of her magic into him. A headache formed at her temples, but it was not as bad as the one the day before. “Are you staying warm enough?”

  “Yes.” His gaze flicked from her to the ceiling. But at least he had answered her.

  “I am sorry the water was so cold.” Perhaps it would have been better to skip sluicing him off with icy water. But she remembered how Farrendel could not stand to be dirty. Even as a child, he had not liked to leave his hands dirty after playing.

  Silence fell. Melantha stared upward at the ceiling, a circular pattern of stones. It was interesting, but not something she would wish to stare at day in and day out.

  If only there was more she could do. If she could help Farrendel escape, perhaps it would in some way make up for the fact that she had gotten him captured in the first place. It would not exonerate her. It could never earn back her place in her family. But perhaps a small measure of forgiveness could be gained.

  But how could she help him escape? Her healing magic was po
werful, but it could not break stone. Perhaps she could risk breaking her oath and kill with her magic. But if she died in the attempt, she could gain Farrendel nothing.

  She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest. So much pain and guilt now joining the ever-present anger. If she did not think of a way to release the storm building inside of her, then she was not sure what would happen when she could no longer suppress all of it.

  Farrendel released a breath, and he turned his head toward her. “Why did you do it?”

  One of the shortened strands of his hair had fallen across his forehead, but Melantha resisted the urge to sweep it behind his ear as she had done when he had been a toddler and his hair had been barely longer than it was now. But Farrendel would not appreciate such a gesture. Instead, she rubbed at one of the forming blisters on her fingers. “I know how you like to be clean. I know it is not much, but it was something I could do to make you more comfortable.” She grimaced at the slight shiver that still ran through him. “More comfortable once you dry off and warm back up.”

  Farrendel shook his head. “Not that. Why did you betray me? Betray our kingdom?”

  She had told him, back when he had been captured, that she had betrayed him for the good of the kingdom. That she had believed the trolls when they had promised that all they wanted was to avenge the old king, and they would leave Tarenhiel in peace once Farrendel was dead.

  But that was not the reason, she knew that now. That was the excuse she had talked herself into believing. It was the delusion she had used to quell her conscience, telling herself it was better to sacrifice one elf to save the entire kingdom, when, underneath, her real reason had been that she had wanted a convenient way to get rid of her own brother.

  There was no good reason she could give him. Because there was no good reason to do what she had done. And bad reasons only sounded like excuses in the end. She could not give any reason that would make her actions forgivable, especially not by Farrendel.

  But she was not asking him to forgive her. He would not. After all, she would not—could not—forgive herself.

  Melantha hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the wall rather than look at him. “I was so...angry. At everything and everyone. At Father for dying. The trolls for killing him. My betrothed for leaving me.”