by Tara Grayce
Next to Essie, Jalissa pressed both palms to the ground. Magic flowed around her fingers and into the ground.
A crackling groan filled the air, like that of flexing tree branches in a storm, barely audible under the thunder of the cannons.
Roots burst from the side of the gorge, thicker than Essie’s waist. They launched themselves across the space.
Before the roots reached the far side, a sheet of ice poured from the far side and coated the wall of the gorge. The roots slammed into the ice and halted.
Was that an automatic defense magic? Was something like that even possible? Or were there trolls huddled behind those rocks controlling that magic?
More Escarlish soldiers hurried forward, carrying another large bulwark. Behind them, soldiers rolled forward one of the repeater guns. They pointed the gun at the wall of ice and worked the crank.
A repeated crack, higher pitched than the boom of the cannons, rang in Essie’s ears. Chips of ice flew into the air, obscuring the other side in a haze of mist and the smoke of gunfire.
In all the booms of the cannons and reverberating crack of the repeater gun, Essie wasn’t sure when the additional gunfire began until one of the Escarlish soldiers by the repeater gun fell, red blossoming at his shoulder.
A stiff, cold wind blasted across the gorge. A blizzard of snow filled the air, obscuring the far side from sight.
A wall of green light flared on the Tarenhieli side. The elves by the artillery were on their feet now. The light of magic pulsing around their hands varied in color from dark green to a green-blue to a lighter yellow-green. While none were as powerful as Farrendel, together, they formed a wall protecting the rest of the elves and the Escarlish soldiers. With a blast of elven magic, they pushed back the trolls’ blizzard.
As the snowflakes and smoke and magic cleared, Essie could just make out the far side of the gorge. The roots the elves had grown had snaked past the ice through gaps and holes the Escarlish soldiers had formed with the repeater gun.
Sweat beaded on Jalissa’s forehead as she poured more green magic into the ground. When Essie peeked around the shields, she spotted Weylind also lit with green as he expended magic.
The roots grew, solidifying into a broad branch. From the branch, more branches shot up along the sides, forming railings, until a living arched bridge spanned the chasm.
Although she couldn’t see farther than this one section of the gorge, more bridges like this should be sprouting all along the line.
Essie’s mouth thinned in a tight line. The railing on the bridge had been her contribution to this plan. She’d told Weylind to make sure the elves knew to grow railings on the bridges. While the elves wouldn’t balk at dashing across a branch across the gorge, the Escarlish soldiers would hesitate if asked to do so without the reassurance of railings.
But at that moment, she couldn’t feel more than a slight satisfaction. It had been her contribution...the better to send Escarlish soldiers charging toward their deaths.
With the constant barrage of the artillery providing some distraction while the elves wielding their magic provided cover, a mixed squad of elven warriors and Escarlish soldiers dashed forward in formation across the open area and onto the bridge.
“Look out!” Jalissa pressed Essie to the ground as rocks hurled from the other side of the gorge. Most were aimed at the warriors and soldiers on the bridge, but some were directed into the trees.
Saplings sprang up in front of Essie, then curled over her and Jalissa until they were protected beneath a dome of wood.
Something rattled against the barrier Jalissa had grown.
Essie peeked between the sheltering saplings. On the bridge, men and elves fell, but those left continued to press forward. At intervals, the Escarlish soldiers knelt and fired their repeating firearms. While they reloaded, the elves behind them loosed arrows, arching them into the trees on the far side.
When they reached the end of the bridge, the soldiers fired a volley. Then, the elven warriors bounded over them, swords flashing as they raced forward. The ring of steel on steel came from the far side as the elves clashed with the troll defenders.
Snow and rocks flew, obscuring the far side once again. Green and blue elven magic flashed against it. The booming artillery fell mostly silent, except for the points farthest from the bridges where they wouldn’t risk hitting their own men and elves.
Weylind sprang to his feet, his sword flashing in his hand, and charged forward. A contingent of elves charged in his wake with a powerful grace. As he reached the far side, green magic surrounded Weylind. Roots burst from the ground, tossing aside the boulders and rock defenses the trolls huddled behind. He vaulted over the remains of a wall, spinning and slicing with his sword.
“I’ve never seen Weylind fight before. Not like this, anyway.” Essie glanced at Jalissa.
“He was our strongest warrior, before Farrendel came into his magic.” Jalissa’s fingers still glowed as she poured her magic into the ground. “Who do you think trained Farrendel?”
Essie hadn’t thought about it much, though it made sense. By the time Farrendel became Laesornysh, his father was already dead. Training Farrendel would have fallen to Weylind.
With a shout, the Escarlish army officers led their men in a charge across the bridges, now that the elves cleared the way. More repeater guns were wheeled across the bridges.
From that point on, the fighting became too heated and chaotic for Essie to follow. Partway through the day, she and Jalissa eased from their spot until they were farther behind the lines. There, they joined the effort gathering the wounded and loading them onto the ambulance wagons to travel to the encampment where Leyleira oversaw the hospital.
As the sun set, Essie sat on a stump, worn thin. Blood spattered her clothes and coated her hands. When had that happened? She had been so busy wrapping wounds, spreading the balm Illyna and the other elves had prepared, giving the injured drinks of water, and trying to lift their spirits with a smile.
Footsteps crunched on the pine needles in front of her. She blinked up, taking a moment to recognize the person standing in front of her. “Avie?”
He knelt in front of her. Dried blood coated the left side of his face from a cut across his cheek. “We gained a foothold on the far side. It will be a difficult night, but we don’t intend to let them push us out.”
Essie glanced around. Weylind stood a few yards away, hands gripping Jalissa’s shoulders. “Julien and Edmund?”
“They’re fine. They’re going to camp on the far side with the army.” Averett’s mouth tilted wryly. “But the generals are insisting that kings and princesses should remain on this side for tonight.”
Ah. At least Essie wouldn’t be sitting safely behind the line all by herself. “I guess today was already costly enough.”
“Yes.” Averett slumped onto the ground next to her stump. “I remember the way Father looked when he returned for brief visits during the last war. He had aged. He didn’t smile quite the way he used to.”
Would this war make her brothers smile and laugh less? She had already seen the lasting damage war had caused to Farrendel.
She drew in a deep breath, reaching for the heart bond. It was late, and Farrendel seemed to be dozing. She didn’t want to wake him if he had found some sleep.
All she wanted to do was lean against Farrendel’s shoulder, his arms around her.
Averett hugged her, but it just wasn’t the same. Not at all.
THE DOOR TO Farrendel’s cell slammed. He stared at the ceiling, refusing to glance toward the troll king’s icy presence. It was best to ignore King Charvod as long as possible.
Heavy footfalls clomped to Farrendel’s side. King Charvod loomed into Farrendel’s line of sight. The troll’s gray, square jaw was hard, his dark eyes burning. He knelt and pressed a hand to the stone next to Farrendel’s shoulder. “Escarland has invaded alongside the elves.”
If Farrendel had not been burying his emotions, he might have le
t some of his satisfaction slip at that news. Essie had done it, making sure their brothers got along enough to organize the invasion. They were coming. Farrendel just needed to hold on.
King Charvod gripped Farrendel’s chin and forced Farrendel to look at him. Behind King Charvod, Prince Rharreth leaned against the wall by the door, his face impassive. King Charvod’s fingers dug painfully into Farrendel’s skin. “What are their plans? How do they intend to take Gror Grar? Not that they will get close. We will push them back over the Gulmorth soon enough.”
Not only had Escarland and Tarenhiel attacked, but they had successfully crossed the Gulmorth River. If the trolls could not stop them with the river between them, then surely the Escarlish and Tarenhieli army would have no trouble continuing to push them back. The next large obstacle would be Gror Grar itself.
“What is their plan?” King Charvod’s fingers dug hard into Farrendel’s jaw. Magic flared around his hand a moment before pain surged through Farrendel’s chest.
Farrendel gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a cry of pain. He would not give King Charvod the satisfaction.
The magic cut off, and Farrendel gasped in a breath past King Charvod’s grip on his chin. Someone like one of Essie’s brothers would have made a sarcastic comment. Probably something about how he had been a little busy being captured and tortured when Escarland’s and Tarenhiel’s generals had made their plans for war.
Instead, Farrendel glared up at King Charvod. “I do not know. I was already your prisoner when they formed their alliance.”
“But you are Tarenhiel’s elite warrior. You must have some idea of their plans.” King Charvod sent another burst of magic into the stones.
This time Farrendel could not fully swallow the cry of pain. Warm, sticky blood dribbled against his back from where the stone had pierced him. “Escarland’s aid will change any strategy I would know.”
He could be certain of only one thing regarding plans. His brother and Essie’s brothers would be coming for him.
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face. King Charvod’s face cracked with a sneer. “You think they will rescue you, as your father did before. They might try, but even with Escarland’s help, their army will break against the walls of Gror Grar.”
The fortress perched on a steep mountainside with only a single bridge leading to the gate. The inner keep of Gror Grar was built into the mountain with a warren of tunnels, not just for the dungeon but for the inner chambers of the troll king and his family.
Could Weylind take the fortress? Even with the powerful weapons Essie’s kingdom had invented?
“Besides, I have you.” King Charvod grinned as he sent another stab of stone into Farrendel. “When your brother arrives, intending to take the fortress, I will pin you to the walls and let him hear you scream before you die.”
Farrendel tried, but he could not stop a cry of pain this time. His head pounded, and he had to clench his hands to stop himself from unleashing the magic he had conserved over the past few days.
Even if they could take Gror Grar, could they reach Farrendel before King Charvod killed him?
Unlikely. Very unlikely.
“How much will your brother be willing to negotiate to spare you?” King Charvod’s grin showed his teeth. They were not pointed, but they should have been for how feral his grin was. “And while he is negotiating, he will come close to the walls where a bullet to the heart or the head will end him quickly enough. Another elf king killed on Kostarian soil.”
Farrendel could picture it all too clearly. Weylind would be cautious. But if Farrendel was pinned like a bug on the wall of Gror Grar, his blood dripping down the stones, Weylind would lose his caution. He would be desperate.
It was so tempting to grasp his magic and blast it through the troll king’s heart.
If he did that, then he would never see Essie again. Prince Rharreth would kill him only seconds after King Charvod died.
The truth was, Farrendel only lived because King Charvod wanted him alive for torture.
If Farrendel could take out King Charvod, would it matter if he died as well? Was that the kind of sacrifice his father would have made?
But Farrendel had promised Essie to survive. He wanted that life, the life he had tasted so briefly during those three months with her.
Perhaps he should not kill King Charvod just yet. He should conserve his magical strength and make sure that, when he made his move, he would be able to kill the troll king and defend himself. After all, King Charvod had all but promised he would come for Farrendel when Weylind attacked. That was the moment when Farrendel would make his move.
By then, Escarland’s and Tarenhiel’s combined army would have proved they could defeat Kostaria. They would be in a position of strength to negotiate a peace with Prince Rharreth. If Farrendel killed King Charvod now, not only would Farrendel end up dead, but Weylind and Averett would only have just stepped foot in Kostaria. Prince Rharreth might not even negotiate for peace. He might choose to push them back and continue the war rather than admit defeat.
No, Farrendel needed to bide his time.
“Are you even listening?” King Charvod growled. “Perhaps a shot to the heart is too quick for your brother. Perhaps I should give him a taste of what you have suffered before he dies.”
“I will...kill you...first.” Farrendel glared at King Charvod. It took all his self-control not to reach for his magic.
King Charvod slapped his hand to Farrendel’s chest and shoved his magic through Farrendel into the floor, drawing on the stone.
Farrendel’s breath seized. He could not breathe, could not think, as another wave of pain slammed into him. Pain and blood and screams until, finally, black nothingness.
Something cold and wet touched his mouth. Farrendel groaned. His head hurt. His chest hurt.
“Farrendel. Can you hear me?”
Essie?
No, not Essie. She was far away.
A warm, soothing magic flowed through him, brushing away the pain in his head and his chest.
Not Essie. Melantha.
He cracked his eyes open. Her black hair blurred against the ceiling for a moment before she came into focus.
She tucked a hand beneath his neck, lifted his head, and pressed a cold tin cup to his mouth. “Try to drink a little.”
He sipped at the cold water. It hurt as it settled into his stomach.
How badly had the troll king hurt him this time? Even Melantha’s magic was struggling to heal him.
He reached for the crackle of his magic. Still there, tucked with the warmth of the heart bond. He kept much of the shield in place, keeping Essie from feeling the pain he was still in.
Melantha laid his head back down. She pressed her palm to his forehead. “Just lie easy for a few minutes.”
More warmth soothed his aching muscles and bones. Farrendel drew in as deep a breath as he could manage. As he did, the truth settled more deeply into his chest.
He needed Melantha’s help to make this plan work. He would need her magic, her strength, for he would have no strength left when it came time to act.
But did he dare trust her? If he trusted her, and she betrayed him again...
He would lose Essie forever.
Yet without Melantha’s help, he definitely would not return to Essie. He would end up pinned to the wall of Gror Grar.
He forced his eyes open. “Melantha?”
“Yes?” She leaned over him. Her black hair straggled, unwashed. She shifted her hand from his forehead to his shoulder, pouring another wave of magic into him.
He could feel the crackle of his magic as her healing magic flooded through him. “Why are you helping me now?”
“How could I not?” Melantha fussed with the blanket thrown over him. “I know there is nothing I can say or do to make up for what I did. But I am sorry. I never should have...”
He wanted so badly to believe her. Perhaps that was a reason he should be mor
e wary. Was he merely deluding himself that she was truly sorry?
He was not sure what to say in response to her. He squeezed his eyes shut and listened. He could not hear anyone in the dungeon corridor, nor could he sense anyone with the little bit of magic he allowed himself.
But he could not confess this secret without being sure. Not that he could be certain she would answer him truthfully if she was still working with the trolls. “Have the trolls left?”
“Yes, they have been gone for some time now.” Melantha adjusted her position on the floor, rattling the stone shackle on her ankle. “They were arguing as they left. King Charvod is leaving tonight to lead the army, and he ordered Prince Rharreth to stay here to guard you and prepare Gror Grar’s defenses. Prince Rharreth was not happy with this arrangement. He seemed to imply that he is the stronger of the two of them and, as the prince, should be the one with the army while King Charvod should remain here. King Charvod was not pleased by this dissent.”
Would Melantha have told him that if she was working with the trolls? Then again, Farrendel had no way to know if she had truly overheard an argument or if she was making it up for some nefarious purpose.
But if she was telling the truth, then Farrendel would have a few days’ relief from the torture. Prince Rharreth would not torture him. He would probably largely ignore him. He might even leave Melantha with him all the time, which would allow him to regain physical and magical strength even more quickly. Not to mention, give him and Melantha time to plan, if he decided to trust her.
“How soon do you think Prince Rharreth will return?” Farrendel might respect Prince Rharreth more than his brother, but the troll prince was still loyal. He would halt Farrendel’s plans if he overheard them.
“Not for a while. Maybe not even at all tonight.” Melantha shook her head and tucked her toes beneath the blanket near Farrendel’s arm. “You were in a bad way when the two of them left. Prince Rharreth stomped back only moments after King Charvod left, all but dragged me and my blanket from my cell, and plopped me in here. I think he barely remembered to shackle my ankle before he hurried off. Probably to argue with his brother some more.”
