The Twisted Citadel

by Sara Douglass

  "You killed Venetia?"

  "She tried to stop me, Axis. Do you think I wanted to do--"

  Axis took a step back. "Stars, woman, you are crazed! You murdered your own mother?"

  "Axis, please, will you tell Maxel what I have said? Will you tell him what I have seen? If you promise me, then it is your life, and Georgdi's and Zeboath's. I can get you to safety."

  The last thing Axis wanted to do was to bring news of this vision to Maxel.

  On the other hand...if Ravenna could aid him escape...

  "I will tell him, Ravenna. But he won't listen to me."

  "All I need is for you to tell him what you have seen, Axis. Thank you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  On the Road to Serpent's Nest

  Ishbel? Will you ride with me a while?"

  "Of course, Maxel."

  She turned her horse after Maximilian, who was riding a little distance into the surrounding countryside.

  "You look tired," she said as she reined in beside him.

  They both pulled their horses back to a walk, ambling along twenty paces from the main part of the column.

  "I spent most of last night with Josia," Maximilian said. "He left me enough time only for a few hours'

  sleep."

  "And?"

  He smiled. "So now there are a few more objects in the Twisted Tower, and a little more knowledge is gained."

  "I'm glad."

  "Ishbel, I asked Josia for a favor."

  "Did he grant it?"

  "I asked him to teach you as much as he could about the Twisted Tower, and the memories it contains.

  He agreed. Ishbel, I want you to know as much as I about Elcho Falling."

  "Why?"

  "Because I do not want it to just be me with this knowledge, Ishbel."

  Ishbel took a deep breath, still staring at Maximilian. "Thank you," she said.

  Maximilian gave a nod, but didn't say anything.

  "When should I go?"

  "I don't see any reason why we cannot work there together, Ishbel. The evenings and nights are the only time when we can spare the hours to slip away to the tower. I can work by myself a good deal of the time, while Josia works with you. If I need him I can call. With luck, you can catch up with me."

  They talked for a while about the Twisted Tower, and the training both would undergo within its walls, then Ishbel changed the subject. "Garth told me something of what happened between you and Ravenna.

  I wish that Venetia had not had to give her own life to save mine."

  "It is not your fault that Venetia is dead."

  She shrugged.

  "Ishbel, I am going to say something now, and I do not want you to either interrupt me or to spur your horse away from me. Can you just listen?"

  She gave a nod.

  "You and I, Ishbel...we met at the wrong time, and married at the wrong time. We both made some terrible mistakes, and said things that we both regret. I certainly regret what I said to you in the snow, when I denied you for Ravenna. No, Ishbel, hear me out, I beg you."

  Maximilian paused to take a deep breath. "We would make a good marriage together now, I think. I

  know you said that there was no possibility of this, and that whatever was once between us was gone.

  Maybe so, and maybe that is a good thing. But what we could make between us now, Ishbel...I think that could be very good indeed.

  "Just think about it. Please. Just think about it."

  Ishbel stared at him, and Maximilian held her eyes for a long moment before he spurred his horse away.

  That night they met within the Twisted Tower. There was a moment of awkwardness, then Ishbel relaxed and smiled, and the awkwardness passed.

  They worked through the night with Josia, who spent most of his time with Ishbel. Three hours before dawn, he sent them back to their beds.

  Alone in her tent, Ishbel dressed for bed, then sat on its edge, the Goblet of the Frogs in her hands.

  Holding it each night had become almost a ritual for her, strengthening her sense of peace.

  Tonight, it wanted to chat.

  Maximilian has asked you to marry him once more.

  "How did you know that?" Ishbel asked.

  Well, he was wearing his Persimius ring, and the ring told Serge's sword, which told Madarin's belt buckle when the two met for a game of dice at dusk. Then--

  "Then the belt buckle told you," Ishbel muttered. "Am I to have no secrets?"

  We all think it would be a good idea, the goblet said, and Ishbel sighed and put the goblet away. She was damned if she was going to marry a man simply because a ring, a sword, a belt buckle, and a goblet thought it a good idea.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Isembaard

  On the morning of the third day after the One had shown Isaiah the curse, and had caused Hereward to be so badly injured, Isaiah busied himself making final preparations for the journey back to Maximilian.

  Every day that he had spent waiting in their little camp by the river had galled him, but there was little he could do about it. Hereward had been in no condition to travel in the immediate days after she'd been injured, and even now Isaiah knew he was risking her life.

  But he had to leave for the north. He had to.

  Hereward could totter a few steps about the camp, but she was incapable of doing anything more. Isaiah couldn't leave her--to do so would be to make a mockery of relinquishing his power--but he knew he couldn't carry her, either.

  So he spent the few days waiting for her to grow stronger either hunting out the occasional rabbit (and twice finding the remaining entrails and meaty bones of beasts that the Skraelings had eaten), or building a cart with which he could transport Hereward and what supplies they could take with them. He had found a small trolley on the riverboat, used for wheeling about casks of water and wine, and with its wheels and axle he had fashioned a small cart. With some canvas and ropes from the boat, he made a comfortable harness with which to pull it.

  "When will we leave?" Hereward asked softly as Isaiah sat across the fire from her, sewing the last strap of the harness into place. She rarely spoke to him. This was not because of her guilt at what he had done for her and how she currently held him back, all of which she continued to feel keenly, but because she felt so out of place in his life. They had no common ground save that both had lived in the palace at Aqhat.

  Even that divided rather than united them. He the Tyrant, she the serving woman; nothing in their lives had ever touched.

  "Tomorrow morning," Isaiah said. He set the harness to one side, then stretched out his shoulders and neck.

  Hereward glanced at the cart. Isaiah had already packed as much food as they had into it.

  The bundle looked pathetically small.

  "I can hunt as we move," Isaiah said, "and we'll be traveling close to the FarReach Mountains. There are a series of springs that dot the foothills. If we are lucky they'll still be running. The Skraelings don't like water and will have left them alone. They should be full of fish."

  "Springs," Hereward said. "Water enough to bathe?"

  Isaiah regarded her with genuine amusement. "Water enough to bathe," he said.

  They lapsed into silence, and Isaiah looked north. It would take them months to reach Maximilian if they had to walk. He thought of how Maximilian and Ishbel had glanced at each other now and again in the days just before he left.

  The curse was fixed.

  For all he knew they had already sunk into its trap.

  "Will we find anything at Sakkuth?" Hereward said, startling Isaiah out of his reverie.

  "Sakkuth?" he said, wondering why that struck a chord deep within him. There was something about Sakkuth...

  "To eat," Hereward said. "Or maybe we might even find a horse still stabled there."

  "I doubt it," Isaiah said. "The Skraelings will have overrun the city. There'll be nothing left."

  Sakkuth. The One had said that Maximilian and Ishbel needed to bring t
he Weeper, the Goblet of the Frogs, and the crown of Elcho Falling to Sakkuth.

  Why didn't the One want them to deliver it to him at DarkGlass Mountain? Surely that was the heart of his power?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The FarReach Mountains

  Eleanon led the Lealfast fighters into the FarReach Mountains two days after Axis' contemptuous dismissal of them. They flew into the mountains half a day's journey west of the Salamaan Pass where, forewarned by message, the entire Lealfast Nation was grouped waiting for him.

  "Eleanon," said one of the elders, a man named Falayal. "What has happened? There have been rumors, and then your message." He looked about at the Lealfast fighters materializing on the walls of the deep canyon in which the Lealfast Nation had gathered. "Why so many injured? What has happened?"

  Eleanon was exhausted, but he needed to speak without delay with Falayal, and then with the rest of the Lealfast. He wanted the Nation to hear of the "debacle" at the hands of Armat, and the reasons for it, from his mouth before they heard of it from any other.

  "Matters have changed," he said. "In a way we could not have anticipated. The Lord of Elcho Falling might not be our only, or even best, hope of salvation after all, Falayal, my friend."

  Falayal regarded Eleanon with concern. "Eleanon?"

  His hand still on Falayal's shoulder, Eleanon turned to look over the mass of Lealfast below him.

  "There is a new path open to us!" Eleanon shouted. He took a deep breath. "Listen," he said, his tone now lower but still perfectly audible, and spoke without pause for over an hour of the way of the One.

  Much later that day, after he had rested and eaten, Eleanon lifted off once more, and flew further south.

  Directly into Isembaard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Armat's Camp, the Central Outlands

  They came for Axis, Georgdi, and Zeboath toward dusk two days after Ravenna had spoken to Axis. In that time, the three men had been given no food and only the bare minimum of water. They were exhausted, cold and damp from the earth, and encrusted in filth. Axis had tried to rub away the dried blood from the cut on his cheekbone, but had, he thought, only made himself look worse.

  "What a group of ruffians we are," he muttered to Georgdi as they stood, finally, gratefully, in the evening light as they waited for Zeboath to be hauled to the surface. "Please tell me I look better than you."

  "I'm afraid I look far better," said Georgdi. He looked about. "Are you certain Ravenna will come to our aid?" he added, very quietly.

  "No," said Axis, "I don't trust her at all. Virtually the last thing she said to me was how she'd needed to murder her own mother to aid her cause. Our deaths would be as nothing after that."

  "Let's hope she harbors a secret passion for you," Georgdi said.

  Axis grunted, more a warning that the guards had edged closer than any reply to what Georgdi had said.

  Zeboath now emerged from the pit, blinking even in this dull light. He caught Axis' eyes, and Axis could see he was nervous.

  And why not, he thought. The man is as close to death as you can get without tipping over the edge.

  The guards manhandled them into a tight group, then marched them forward.

  "The gallows are but five minutes' walk away," said one of them. "You can enjoy your last sunset on the way."

  Ravenna sat with Armat in his tent. They were sharing a flask of wine, waiting for the guards to call them once the three men had been brought to the gallows.

  Ravenna was very glad Lister was not with them.

  Armat was distracted momentarily by a soldier delivering a whispered report, and she closed her eyes, visualizing Axis, Georgdi, and Zeboath being led toward the gallows.

  Axis, she said.

  Axis narrowed his eyes briefly, waited a moment, then took Georgdi's arm and gave it a brief squeeze.

  At Georgdi's look, Axis put a finger to his lips and nodded at Zeboath.

  Georgdi understood, touching Zeboath's arm and nodding to Axis.

  Axis tipped his head a little, then calmly walked to one side, slipping between the guards.

  The guards did nothing.

  Georgdi wasted one moment in an amazed glance, then pulled Zeboath out as well.

  Once with Axis, they turned and looked back at the detail.

  There marched the guards, surrounding Axis, Georgdi, and Zeboath, who walked apparently docilely in their midst.

  A glamour, Axis said into Georgdi's and Zeboath's minds, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence by speaking aloud.

  He led Georgdi and Zeboath toward a horse line a little distance away.

  There are some horses saddled at the end of the line, Axis said. Take them, and lead them quietly out of camp. No one will see them. When you get beyond camp, ride north, as fast as you can.

  You? Georgdi mouthed.

  I am going for Inardle. I know this is a risk, but I will not leave her. Don't wait for me. Don't wait for me, Georgdi!

  Georgdi gave him a hard look, then nodded, gesturing to Zeboath to follow him.

  Zeboath paused briefly by Axis, giving him a look of deep concern, then he, too, was gone.

  Axis sighed in relief.

  Inardle.

  He started to run for Risdon's tent. He didn't have long. The guards and the glamour they escorted were within a few minutes of the gallows, and the glamour would vanish the instant the ropes slid about the apparitions' necks.

  Axis was lucky. There were only two soldiers anywhere near Risdon's tent--the others apparently having drifted toward the gallows. Axis paused just outside the tent flap, hearing movement inside. He wondered briefly what he would see when he entered, then he lifted the flap and ducked inside.

  Risdon was standing by a camp bed, sliding his feet into boots as he buttoned his breeches. His shirt was lying to one side, ready to be donned.

  Behind him, and beyond the bed, Axis could see a spread of bloodstained wing on the floor.

  Risdon knew someone had entered the tent, but he could not immediately see Axis. He shouted a warning to the soldiers outside, simultaneously reaching for his scabbarded sword hanging from the back of a nearby chair. He had half drawn it when he felt a hand grab his wrist.

  Then a great blow to his jaw made his vision gray.

  Axis seized the sword as Risdon sagged back to the bed, then spun about, taking off the head of the first soldier who had rushed in. The second soldier, far more wary, hesitated just inside the entrance, eyes narrowed as they tracked a ghostly apparition as it took off his comrade's head, then came for him.

  The soldier managed to trade just two blows with the apparition before he, too, fell dead to the floor.

  Axis turned about, breathing deeply, knowing that his actions were wearing the glamour thin. Risdon had just struggled to his feet, but was still groggy, and offered no resistance when Axis seized his hair and forced him around the other side of the bed.

  Inardle lay half on the floor, half huddled against the back canvas wall of the tent. Her face was bloodied and bruised, her breasts and abdomen worse. The stitched wound on her flank and abdomen was half open and oozing dark blood. Her broken wing, held awkwardly to one side, was swollen and covered with contusions; the swelling had spread down her left shoulder and arm.

  She knew Axis' presence, and stared at him as he held Risdon over her.

  "I wish I had more time to spend on this," Axis said, "but I fear Inardle and I have pressing business elsewhere. Risdon, take one more breath, and savor it, for it will be your last."

  Axis waited for that one, terrified breath, and then he drew the blade of his sword across Risdon's neck and tossed the dying man to one side. He stuck the sword through his belt, then leaned down to Inardle.

  "Can you walk?"

  "I don't know." Her voice was harsh, very dry, and Axis had to strain to hear it.

  He leaned down, and as gently as he could, but with as much speed as possible, lifted her by her right arm. He slid his other arm
about her back as she inched her way upward, stopping at her cry of pain and as a sudden line of frost ran down one side of her body.

  "Inardle..."

  "Please, please, get me out of here, Axis. Whatever you do is going to hurt me, just get me out of here."

  Axis gritted his teeth and half dragged, half lifted Inardle toward the flap of the tent. She was a slender woman, but she was tall, and her wings heavy and awkward. Axis gave silent thanks to Isaiah and his war master for the intensive daily training over the past few months; without it, Axis doubted he could have managed this.

  "There are horses outside," Axis said.

  "I won't be able to ride."

  "Then you'll ride with me. You still have some strength in that right arm?"

  She nodded.

  "Then you're going to need to grip with all your might, because I think we have a wild gallop ahead of us."

  They were outside the tent by this time, and Axis glanced about. The attention of the entire camp was still on the gallows--he could see the guards now marching the apparitions up the steps--and Axis thanked whatever gods had arranged it that Risdon's tent was so close to the edge of the encampment.

  There was a big bay stallion tethered by his reins to the back of the tent; Risdon's mount, no doubt. Axis propped Inardle up against a tent pole, tightened the stallion's girth--once more thanking the gods that he was already saddled--then lifted Inardle into the saddle.

  Again she cried out as her broken wing caught for a moment between her body and Axis, but Axis ignored it. He untied the stallion, now dancing about in consternation at the wings which trailed down either side of its body, vaulted up behind Inardle, and turned the horse's head hard to one side as he kicked it into movement.

  The stallion leapt straight into a gallop, and Inardle swayed alarmingly to one side and would have fallen had not Axis managed to grab her.

  At the same time, Axis heard a cry behind him.

  He didn't wait to hear what it was about, and dug his booted heels once more into the stallion's flanks.