Bursting from the tower onto the grassy top of the island, I bounded to the ledge.
Then I froze, heart pounding.
Six rowboats full of Whitish soldiers bobbed near the foot of the stairs. Two men were already ascending, bows raised. The remaining boats bristled with arrows as well.
At a shout from one of the soldiers, every arrow turned to me.
Cal skidded to a halt beside me with a sharp intake of breath.
Before I could warn the others, Baridya, Nyla, and my archer joined us at the edge of the island.
“Surrender at once!” one of the soldiers barked. “You are outnumbered and surrounded, de—”
A roar of flames exploded from the center of the nearest boat.
The soldier’s voice turned into a howl of pain.
Not a second later, ten arrows flew at us.
I threw myself to the ground, but my friends were not so fast.
Nyla screamed, and Cal leapt back with a yell.
“Don’t use fire against them!” I shouted. “Get back into the tower, now!”
Baridya and the archer turned and fled, while Cal helped Nyla limp back to the tower. She left her lamp where it had fallen. The arrow protruded from her leg; in the dark, I could not see how much the wound bled.
At the tower, we fell through the doorway and heaved the door shut behind us.
A second later, three more arrows hit the wood with dull thunks.
Breathing hard, I slid the latch into place. It was a thin, flimsy iron bolt, not the sort designed to hold up in an attack.
“Can you get them from upstairs?” I asked Cal, leaning my full weight against the door.
“I don’t think there’s a window on this side of the tower,” Baridya said. “That’s where the stairs end.”
I cursed—she was right.
The door jolted against us as the Whitish soldiers slammed into it.
Thankfully, the latch held.
A loud thwack rang out from behind us. The door jolted against my shoulder once again, and I flinched.
“They’re trying to cut through the door,” Baridya whispered.
The second thwack splintered a board—the door rattled as the soldier tried to free his hatchet from the wood.
Their next strike was liable to sink through the door and into the flesh of whoever stood in the way.
“We need to get upstairs,” I said. “At least we can try to put up a fight that way.”
Abandoning my post by the door, I ran up the stairs two at a time. My companions scrambled after me.
Another hatchet blow rang out from below, and I could hear the wood splintering. The bolt rattled but held.
Baridya and the archer joined me at the top of the stairs moments later, but Nyla limped slowly up, one arm draped over Cal’s shoulder. Her pale face was visible even in the dark, yet she did not cry out. The arrow still protruded from her leg.
Just before they reached the top, another hatchet blow slammed into the door with a deafening crack. Hinges creaked as the door swung inward.
I expected to hear footsteps pounding up the stairs; instead silence fell.
Cal helped Nyla into a chair and joined us where we stood at the top of the stairs, shoulder to shoulder, swords at the ready.
Then I caught a whiff of smoke.
Cal tiptoed a few steps down the stairs and peered around the corner. When he turned back toward us, the orange glow of flames rose behind him.
“They’ve tossed dry grass on the stairs and set it on fire,” he said blankly.
“Can you do anything about it?” I asked.
He shook his head. Backlit by the brightening glow of hungry flames, his face was unreadable. “I can’t stop fires, I just start them.”
Great plumes of smoke began to billow up the stairs.
“They’ve trapped us,” Baridya said. As she tried to draw breath, she coughed violently.
I looked around the small tower room. The space was almost bare—nothing in here could save us. I wondered if the harbor guardian was watching from somewhere out on the dark sea as flames devoured his home.
This was the end. I had known it from the moment I saw the first Whitish rowboat reach shore, but I had held out hope that some miracle might save us. If my father or Dellik had chosen this night to ride down the hill into Larkhaven with an army of their own, we would have been saved. But only a fool would pin their hopes on such happenstance.
Of course no one had come. We were alone.
Covering my mouth with the sleeve of my coat, I drew a shaky breath. “We have to jump out the window. I’ll go first.”
“No!” Baridya said. “They’ll shoot you!”
“I’m more valuable as a hostage. If I surrender, they might spare you.”
She stared at me in disbelief.
“I’m sorry.” The words were so inadequate in the face of my failure.
I had lost Larkhaven.
Our long spans of training had not been enough. I had sent dozens of innocent men and women to die, and in doing so, I paved the way for Whitland to seize Itrea.
I turned my back on my friends. I did not want to see the fear and betrayal on their faces. Drawing in a lungful of smoky air that tore at my throat, I stepped over to the window.
Below, Whitish soldiers ringed the tower, bows raised.
Standing framed in the window, I shouted out, “I surrender. I have influence over the forces fighting in Larkhaven, and if you spare my life, I will subdue them.”
“Are you the queen?” a soldier barked up at me.
My heartbeat stuttered. How did they know? Who had betrayed me? Was it Leoth? Gods, I hoped I had not been wrong about him yet again.
But there was no longer any reason to hide who I was. Not if the truth might save Cal and Baridya.
I swallowed hard. “I am.”
The Whitish soldiers lowered their bows.
Inside the tower, the air was getting hotter. Nyla and Cal were coughing; when I glanced back, I could hardly make out their forms through the smoke.
Setting down my sword, I climbed onto the smooth stone ledge of the window. Fresh air brushed past my face, and I breathed deeply, my lungs still tight from the smoke.
Then, trusting my flying cloak for the second time that night, I jumped off.
I fell faster than I expected, my stomach leaping into my throat. I was less than a pace from the ground when my flying cloak slowed my descent. As I floated the last few handspans to the grass, a Whitish soldier stumbled back, his face blank with shock.
“Seize her, you fools.”
The second my feet touched the ground, I was surrounded. Men seized my shoulders and arms, binding my hands roughly behind me.
“My companions are magicians—Makhori—as well,” I said. I fought to keep panic from my voice. “If you hope to conquer Itrea, you will need to learn about the magic races so you know how to overcome them in battle. Take my companions as captives as well, and keep them alive for questioning.”
“If anyone tries that trick with the fire again, we’ll cut out their hearts,” a soldier growled.
My breath caught in my throat, but I nodded.
“Come down!” I shouted at the tower.
I could see nothing but smoke gushing from the window. I hoped my friends were safe.
“If you surrender and do not use magic against the Whitish, your lives will be spared,” I called up.
Nyla was the first to appear at the window, helped onto the sill by Baridya and Cal. She tipped forward like a baby bird trying to fly, her flying cloak twisted behind her, and would have landed on her face if not for the Whitish soldiers who seized her arms before she touched the ground.
Cal and the archer followed quickly, with Baridya taking the rear. She was wracked by another coughing fit as she fell, and when she reached the ground, she doubled over, gasping for air.
Within moments, my companions were all bound, and the soldiers threw coats over their heads to blind them. I
alone was allowed to see.
We were marched roughly down the stairs, our feet skidding on the stone. Twice I stumbled and would have plunged into the waves if not for the soldiers’ fierce grip on my arms. At the base of the stairs, we were shoved into a pair of waiting rowboats. Baridya and Nyla joined me, while Cal and the archer were dragged into a second boat.
At the orders of the soldier who appeared to be leading this group, three boats struck out toward shore, while the remaining three—including the two that held my companions and me—skirted around the island in the direction of the Whitish ship.
As we bobbed over the waves, cutting through the dark water, I caught intermittent glimpses of Whitish soldiers swarming up the pier and flooding the beach.
The tsunami bell fell abruptly silent. In its absence, my ears continued to ring, while distant shouts rose over the restless churning of the ocean.
Behind us, smoke poured from the windows of the tower, orange flames glowing within.
Could I rip my arms free of my captors and throw myself into the waves? I shifted on my seat, testing how quickly the soldiers’ grip tightened on my arms.
No. If I tried to resist, my friends would die. Cal and Nyla had no way of using their power while blindfolded; they were as likely to injure us as the Whitish soldiers.
Who had betrayed me? How did the Whitish even know I was alive?
Soon we drew up alongside the belly of the Whitish ship. It was much larger than it had appeared from a distance, like a floating mansion.
A man leaned over the rail and called down, “What’s this?”
“We have her,” the lead soldier said with savage pleasure. “Queen Kalleah. The battle is over.”
The soldiers unbound our hands long enough to let us climb the ladder onto the ship. When we reached the deck, dozens of soldiers surrounded us.
“How can you be sure it’s the queen?” A man in a general’s coat gripped my jaw in his gloved hand and wrenched my head side to side.
“I’ve seen her portrait. This is the queen, sure enough.”
The general smiled cruelly. “Well done. Send word to Larkhaven—the fight is over. Their demon queen is ours.”
25
The Restless Sea
M y friends were marched down into the hold, while the general led me into what I guessed were his own quarters at the rear of the ship. The ship had drifted out from behind the island, and through the windows lining the rear, I caught glimpses of torchlight on the distant shore.
The general forced me into a chair and tied my hands to the back.
“You’re a pretty young thing, for a demon,” he said with a leer. “You know you’ve lost. If you want your friends to live, you’ll do as I ask.”
I nodded. Don’t give up, Leoth, I pleaded silently, glancing out toward the brightly lit waterfront. Keep fighting in my stead. The armies will follow you more readily than they’ll ever follow me.
Again the general seized my chin, this time gripping painfully, his fingers digging into my jaw. “What are your plans? Is this your full army, or do you have reserves waiting to attack once Larkhaven is ours?”
“This is my full army,” I said, fighting down panic. I was surprised when my voice came out steady. “Larkhaven is already yours. Very few people came to my aid. Haven’t you heard about my power?”
His grip tightened.
“I drain strength from those around me. Before long, they collapse, and if they remain close to me after that, I draw the life force from them.” I met his cold blue eyes with a challenge. “They die.”
The general released my jaw as though stung. He took a few steps away from me.
“Even my own people are afraid of me. That’s why I lost my throne. You would do well to keep your distance, or you might be my next victim.”
The general continued to stare at me, mouth twisting with disgust. He must have heard the stories.
At last he said, “I’ll keep you here until the fighting ends. You’ll make a fine gift for the High King, you will. And in the meantime, you’ll help us keep your little army in line.”
Then he turned on his heel and marched from his quarters, slamming the door behind him.
I waited until I could no longer hear his footsteps. Then I stood, hunched beneath the chair I was still bound to, and shuffled toward the windows.
If I could do nothing to help, at least I could watch as my army fell.
The beach was now thronged with Whitish soldiers. As I watched, a column of people in darker clothing spilled from the main street, flanked by figures in white.
Leoth’s men. My stomach lurched—they had lost the fight.
At the top of the hill, I could still see hundreds of torches and lanterns clustered around the road just outside town. Those who had evacuated at the tsunami bell were waiting for a sign that it was safe to return to their homes.
From below, no one would be able to see the flood of lights. As far as Leoth knew, the townspeople remained safely in their homes, unaware that Larkhaven was under attack.
My shoulders shook with silent, desperate laughter.
The forces we needed had finally gathered, but Leoth was surrendering before they could join the battle. We had come so close. Yet it was all for nothing.
My eyes were damp—somewhere my laughter had turned to tears.
I was a useless excuse for a queen. What had I ever done for Itrea, apart from dragging the seething undercurrent of hatred for magic into the open? My people were better off without me.
How had I ever imagined I could win against Whitland?
As Whitish soldiers divided Leoth’s troops into small clusters, I was confronted again by the impossibility of standing against their army. Our soldiers were ragged and clumsy, our forces vastly outnumbered. Even if we had won Larkhaven today, we would never match the brute strength of Whitland.
Father, where are you? I thought, as if desperation might carry my plea to his ears. I needed a miracle. I needed him to gallop over the hill like a god, leading a true army.
But no help came.
We had lost.
As I watched, a glowing speck appeared on the beach. Gradually it grew larger, until I recognized the leaping flames of a bonfire, tearing hungrily through a mountain of driftwood.
Two Whitish soldiers dragged a dark figure from a clump of Leoth’s troops and marched them toward the flames. From this distance, I could not tell if it was a man or a woman.
The Whitish soldiers flung the struggling body into the flames. Briefly the bonfire faltered, half-smothered beneath the body, but soon the flames regained their strength. Even from here, I could hear the screams.
The soldier’s body was soon engulfed.
“Leoth!” I shouted silently. “You need to stop this!”
But another dark shape soon joined the first, and another.
Fury rose within me, hot and seething.
The Whitish soldiers were burning my people alive.
Helplessness twisted through me, and for one mad second I craved death—anything to save me from watching my people go up in flames one by one. I thought I smelled a whiff of charred flesh, and my stomach heaved.
I hungered to destroy the Whitish soldiers. I wanted to plunge a dagger through their hearts, one by one, and watch their life bleed away.
I no longer cared if this war turned me into a monster, a true demon. I would become whatever it took to save my people.
But what could I do to stop the slaughter?
My eyes raked the corners of the room. Could I break free of the captain’s quarters and order Cal to set the ship aflame? I did not care if we burned with it. I would do anything to weaken the Whitish army.
Yet that would not save Larkhaven.
No. The ship did not matter, not right now. I had to save my people. I had to get to shore.
But we were anchored far out to sea. I had never swum so far in my life, and had never braved the restless, churning sea.
Did I have any
other choice?
At least I could rely on the energy I had drained from my companions. That might give me the strength I needed to fight the powerful currents, the tumbling waves. And if I drowned along the way, I would avoid whatever torture awaited me at the hands of the Whitish army.
Hands shaking, cold fear creeping through me, I tugged at the rope binding my wrists. I found I could loosen the rope little by little, picking at the knots with my fingers. The rope bit deep into my flesh as I struggled, but I hardly felt it. After several minutes, I managed to loosen it enough to tug my hands free.
Tiptoeing to the door, I locked it. Then I kicked off my boots and stripped down to my underclothes. When we had jumped into the river near Pelek, my heavy layers had dragged at me like greedy hands. I could not afford to slow myself this time, or I would never reach shore.
With cold hands, I pushed open one of the latticed windows and leaned out over the dark water.
Below, the waves shifted restlessly, their depths impenetrable. A shudder ran through me. It was a long way down. After staring at the glossy black water for several minutes, rigid with fear, I stepped away from the window and retrieved my flying cloak. I could abandon it once I reached the water.
The shore was too far away. I would never make it.
No.
I pushed away my doubts—whether I reached it or not, I had to try.
Scanning the dark waves, my heart beating in my throat, I thought I glimpsed the fin of the Rider’s dolphin, Luthi. It comforted me. With any luck, the dolphin would ward off sharks and other monsters of the deep.
I could not wait any longer, or I would talk myself out of this madness.
My breathing was shallow. I gulped at the chill sea air, goosebumps rippling down my arms. Stiffly I clambered onto a table, raising myself to the level of the window. I slid one leg through, and then another.
Then, as a gust of briny air rattled the glass, I flung myself off the ship.
The water rose up to meet me gently, my fall slowed by the flying cloak. Once my toe struck the icy water, the cloak dropped me with a splash.
Almost immediately, the weight of the sodden cloak tried to tug me under. Sucking in a shallow breath, I fumbled at the knot at my throat and kicked away from the tangling weight.
Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3) Page 23
