“The arrowhead!” Samial yelled again. Then he brought his hand to his chest with a stabbing motion.
Without a sound, Lord Vicerin brought his blade around, aiming it squarely at Elodie’s neck. She let out a wordless scream and ducked. The sword cut through the topmost strands of her hair.
At last she knew what Samial meant.
Plunging her hand into her tunic, she closed her fingers on what she carried there. What she’d been carrying almost all the time she’d known Samial.
My arm is the arrow, she thought deliriously, and I am the bow.
With all her strength, she drove the arrowhead into the gap in Lord Vicerin’s armor. It sank deep. Hot blood gushed out over Elodie’s fingers.
A shudder ran through Lord Vicerin’s body. He dropped his sword. Like lightning, Elodie snatched it up and drove it in after the arrowhead.
Lord Vicerin inhaled labored breaths through the tiny holes in his visor, but the scream of agony Elodie had expected never came. Instead, his arms and legs stiffened and he fell forward onto the ground.
Elodie watched, every muscle tense, waiting for his next breath to come.
But he didn’t move again.
Lord Vicerin was dead.
“Now you truly will be queen.”
Samial’s voice was faint. Finally believing Lord Vicerin was dead, Elodie looked round to see her friend floating in midair between the two riderless horses. He was so faint she could barely see him.
Her heart gave a wrench.
The arrowhead had saved her—and cost Elodie her closest friend.
“No!” she cried. “Samial, you can’t leave! I’ll find it, I’ll find it and you can stay . . . .”
She reached over Vicerin’s armored body, determined to extract the arrowhead from his chest, however gruesome the task might be.
How long have I got? she thought frantically. How long before he passes into the Realm of the Dead?
Samial’s hands folded over hers.
She couldn’t feel his touch—could barely even see his fingers—but the gesture stopped her all the same.
“It is too late,” Samial said gently. “My time has come at last. I cannot stay in Toronia.”
Elodie was ready to collapse. Her enemy lay dead before her, and it should have left her feeling triumphant. Instead, she felt only weak and empty. All the strength she’d carried into battle had departed. Now here was Samial, her truest friend, saying good-bye.
“You’re the first ghost I ever spoke to,” she said, fighting back tears. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have known what I can do. I’d never have . . .”
“You would.” Samial smiled, now just a faint trace in the air. “But I am glad it was me.”
“I’m glad too.”
“You set me free, Elodie, that day you found me in the woods. Thanks to you, I can go to my rest.” Now Samial was no more than a shadow in the air. A breeze blew, lifting him up like a pennant of sheerest silk. “And go I must, while I still have the strength to enter the Realm of the Dead.”
Elodie smiled at him through her tears. “It’s very beautiful there.”
“I am ready.”
“I know,” Elodie whispered.
“I am glad to leave you as my queen.”
The breeze carried him away, and he was gone.
Elodie buried her face in her hands. Sobs racked her body. Utterly spent from grief and the battle, she sank to the ground and let the darkness swallow her up.
• • •
Elodie woke with tears dried on her face. She sat up, pressing her hand to the dull ache in her ribs. How long ago had she fainted?
Above her loomed the red stone wall of one of the castle’s outer turrets.
How did I get here?
The battlefield was littered with Vicerin bodies. More Vicerin troops were fleeing from the castle, a few straggling groups of Helkrags among them. The field was thronged with ghosts, and more ghosts lined the battlements of the castle. The enemy was in retreat. The battle was over.
Elodie stumbled to her feet. “We won,” she breathed.
“Elodie!”
She spun round to see Sylva pulling a water pouch from the saddle pack of a nearby horse. At the sound of his sister’s voice, Cedric came running from the other side of the turret.
“You’ve woken up!” he cried. “Are you all right?”’
“I’m fine. What happened?”
“We found you and carried you back here,” said Sylva, hurrying over with the water. “There was so much blood—we thought it was yours.”
“I’m all right,” Elodie reassured her. “Just a bit bruised. Is it true? Did we . . .”
“Win?” Cedric grinned. “Yes, Elodie. We did.”
Elodie could feel something growing inside her. A sense of triumph at last? But before it could blossom fully, Sylva started sobbing.
“Oh, Sylva, Cedric, I’m sorry . . . your father . . .”
“It’s all right, Elodie,” said Cedric. “We saw it all.”
“I’m not crying because he’s dead,” said Sylva. “I’m crying because of all the awful things he did when he was alive.”
“But now we’ve got a chance to make things better.” Cedric bowed low before Elodie. “Isn’t that right, my queen?”
“Yes,” Elodie replied firmly. “Yes, it is.”
“And it can start right here!” Sylva proclaimed. She wiped her cheeks. “Ritherlee is yours, Elodie. The realm belongs to you!”
“It does. I can hardly believe it.”
One realm conquered. One step closer to the throne. Oh, I wish Tarlan and Gulph were here!
Cedric was grinning. “From now on, you can . . . Elodie, where are you going?”
She had begun hurrying across the battlefield. Her hand was pressed to her throat. “To get the jewels!” she called back. “From your father. My brothers and I will need them.”
I can’t wait to see the look on Tarlan’s face when I . . .
Elodie stopped.
The ground was shaking.
“Elodie?” Sylva’s voice quavered. “I don’t like this.”
Elodie lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. There was movement on the crest of a distant hill. Figures were descending its slope toward the castle, many thousands of them. Following close behind came strange war machines rolling on great metal wheels.
Not Vicerins, she thought, observing the brilliant, multicolored costumes of these newcomers. Not Helkrags. Then who?
Now the rumble of marching feet was joined by the piercing sound of horns, and the thumping of drums.
A sea of curved swords flashed in the afternoon sun.
“Galadronians!” cried Cedric.
Elodie’s hand remained frozen at her neck, but she was no longer thinking about the jewels. She was remembering the Galadronian assassin who’d tried to strangle her.
“They’ve come for Toronia,” she said.
She felt cold with horror.
“So this is why Vicerin wasn’t charging toward the castle,” she said.
“He knew the invasion was coming,” said Cedric. His eyes were wide as he stared out at the vast ranks of Galadronian troops.
Elodie remembered the messenger fetching Vicerin from the battle after she’d woken on the pyre. It must have been to tell him what was coming. Had he even struck his terrible deal with the Helkrags to fight the Galadronians, not her ghosts as she’d assumed?
“I should have known something wasn’t right,” she said bitterly.
Sylva took her hand. “It’s not your fault. None of us realized.”
Elodie looked back at the castle. Many of its walls were breached. Its armories were badly damaged by fire. Its entire complement of guards had fled, leaving only Elodie and her army of ghosts to defend it.
But how can we defend it, when we’re so few?
“I thought we’d won a great victory today,” she said. “But we’ve just stepped straight into the jaws of defeat.” She r
an her hand through her short hair and let out a long, despairing sigh.
“What do we do now?” asked Cedric.
Elodie felt hollowed out.
“I don’t know,” she said.
CHAPTER 16
Gulph clung to the thick feathers of the thorrod’s ruff, feeling the steady pulse of its great flight muscles thrumming through his legs. He’d heard tell of these giant birds, but hadn’t realized how powerful they were. Now, having traveled all the way from the Icy Wastes to the farmlands of Ritherlee in what felt like the blink of an eye, he understood that thorrods could fly very fast, and travel very far indeed.
“I can see Castle Vicerin.” Tarlan stabbed his finger toward a collection of towers and battlements thrusting out of the rolling landscape. “There—straight ahead.”
Gulph, seated behind his brother on Theeta’s broad back, watched intently as they drew near to the castle. Its red stonework was blackened by fire. Ribbons of smoke drifted lazily among its spires. There was no movement within its broken walls.
“There’s been a battle,” Gulph said.
“There’s more to come,” said Tarlan grimly.
Gulph turned his eyes to the hills north of the castle. Instead of green lettuce or yellow corn, the fields looked as if they’d been sown with crops of all colors . . . except they weren’t crops.
They were people.
“The Galadronians,” said Tarlan. “I thought the first invasion was big, but this . . .”
His voice faltered, leaving only the whisper of Theeta’s giant wings to fill the silence as they watched the enormous Galadronian army first surround the castle, then pour into it.
“We can’t possibly take them on,” said Gulph. “We’ve got to think about this.”
“What is there to think about?” Tarlan retorted. “Elodie’s down there—if they haven’t killed her already.”
“Gulph is right,” called Kalia. She was flying level with them, perched on Kitheen’s back. “It is too dangerous.”
Elodie dead? The thought of it turned Gulph’s spine to ice. “They might just have taken her prisoner.”
“All the more reason to get down there!” snapped Tarlan. “Down, Theeta, and fast!”
“Tarlan! No!”
But Theeta was already diving toward the castle. Gulph tightened his grip around Tarlan’s waist as the rushing air threatened to blast them both off the thorrod’s back.
“Make her stop!”
Ignoring him, Tarlan steered Theeta toward the flat roof of the castle’s central keep. As she prepared to land, a line of archers raced out onto the battlements. Colorful robes billowing in the wind, they raised their bows and fired a volley of arrows at the oncoming thorrod.
“Down!” cried Tarlan.
He flattened himself against Theeta’s feathery back; Gulph did the same. At the same moment, Theeta spread her wings wide. Gulph clung on, expecting the giant bird to begin climbing. Instead, Theeta started dropping even faster than she had before. Whipping his head round, Gulph saw why.
Those aren’t ordinary arrows!
The Galadronian arrows flew high—much higher than they had any right to. If Theeta had done the obvious thing and tried to climb to safety, she’d have flown straight into their path.
And there was something else.
The arrows were trailing something behind them. At first, Gulph thought it was smoke—he’d seen burning arrows before, but smoke was usually black or gray. What the arrows were leaving behind was . . .
. . . gold?
Theeta made an abrupt turn. Gulph’s stomach lurched into his throat, but he didn’t take his eyes off those lines of gold being drawn across the sky. As he watched, the trails broke apart into clouds of dust. When Theeta eventually began to climb, her flight path took her directly through one of these clouds. Gulph snatched at the dust-speckled air as they sped through it. When he opened his hand, he saw that it wasn’t dust at all.
It’s sand!
By now, Theeta had reached the clear air through which Kitheen was still circling with Kalia on his back.
“We’re all right,” Gulph called. Their mother smiled with relief.
The two thorrods began cawing to each other. Gulph was about to ask Tarlan what they were saying when a third thorrod flew down. This one was a little bigger than Kitheen, with breast feathers as white as his were black.
“Nasheen!” shouted Tarlan. “Come with us!”
Below, the castle continued to fill up with Galadronian troops. The sight filled Gulph with despair.
If Elodie really is down there, I don’t see how we can ever get her out.
Theeta’s muscles flexed beneath his legs. He realized with a start that their giant steed had turned away from the castle and was now flying over the open fields to the southeast.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “What were the thorrods saying?”
“Melchior’s here,” Tarlan replied. “He’s at a place called Castle Darrand. The people of Deep Poynt are with him.”
“Darrand?” The flight here had given Tarlan ample time to tell his story, but Gulph didn’t recall the name coming up before. “Is that a place or a person?”
“Both. Castle Darrand is the home of Lady Darrand. I’ve met her before. She’s quite a warrior, and no friend of the Vicerins.” Tarlan flicked his head around and exposed his teeth in a feral grin.
Leaving Castle Vicerin behind, the thorrods picked up the meandering course of a small river winding through the Ritherlee farmland. The fields below them looked torn up and muddy, and all the villages they passed were burned. Gulph felt sad at the sight of such destruction. He’d heard so much about the green pastures of Ritherlee, and had been looking forward to seeing them. But he hadn’t reckoned on the war.
A war that now looked unwinnable.
This Lady Darrand might be a warrior, but can she really help us take on the Galadronians?
A flock of eagles flew up from a nearby thicket. At once they started screeching to Tarlan.
“We fly southeast. Tell everyone to follow us,” Tarlan told the eagles.
With answering screeches, the eagles dived for the ground.
“They’re from the pack,” Tarlan explained to Gulph over his shoulder. “Poor old Greythorn. The eagles said he’s had a hard time keeping them all running fast enough. Thorrods fly fast.”
“I’d noticed. Is Greythorn the leader? When you’re not around, I mean.”
“Sort of. He’s just a bit smarter than the rest. But he’s really part of a team. Greythorn, Filos, and Brock—they’re sort of like my generals.”
Whenever Tarlan spoke about his pack, his eyes grew bright. Gulph loved to see it. He envied Tarlan his ability to command the animals—it seemed so much more interesting than Gulph’s own magical powers.
Beyond the trees, the land descended to meet a wide, rutted road.
“It isn’t far now,” said Tarlan. “We should be there well before nightfall.”
Theeta changed course to begin following the road. As she turned, Gulph glanced back at the thicket . . . and was surprised to observe a sea of faces staring up at them.
“Wait!” he cried. “Go back!”
“What is it?”
“There are people down there. Soldiers.”
Theeta’s shadow slipped over the crowd of people huddled under the trees. Their silver armor was worn and dirty; blue sashes hung limp from their shoulders.
“Vicerins!” Tarlan’s lip curled. “They must have run away from the fighting, and now they’re holed up here. Don’t they know they’re sitting targets?”
“They don’t look dangerous.”
It was true. The faces of the soldiers were gaunt with fatigue, and their eyes were dull. A few were listlessly trying to build shelters or start fires, but most sat slumped against the tree trunks. They looked utterly defeated.
“Tarlan—how big an army does this Lady Darrand have?”
“I don’t think it’s really an army
. More a band. But they’re strong.”
“A band,” Gulph repeated. “So, Melchior has brought people from Deep Poynt, you have your pack, and Lady Darrand has a band.” He seized his brother’s shoulder. “Do you really think that’s enough to take on the Galadronians?”
Tarlan’s muscles tensed. Gulph softened his grip and waited.
“No,” Tarlan said at last. Gulph could hear the effort it took him to admit it. “Not by a long way. They’re too many.” He swiveled round to face Gulph. “What are you thinking, brother?”
“I was thinking about the Celestians—how I sort of, well, won them over. I just thought maybe I could—”
“Win over the Vicerins? Are you mad? They’re the enemy!”
“But look at them! They’re suspicious of us, yes. But they don’t exactly look hostile.”
“As if you can tell all that just from their faces,” said Tarlan dismissively. “Anyway, like I said, they’re the enemy.”
“No—Lord Vicerin is the enemy. Just like Lady Redina was the enemy in Celestis. Now that they’re away from the castle, away from him, these people have a choice.”
“And I suppose you’re going to help them make it?”
“Why not?”
Tarlan’s face had turned red. Gulph hated to see him angry, but he couldn’t let this go.
“Tarlan, we have to talk to them. They might even know what happened to Elodie. If I’m wrong, we’ll just fly away. You and Theeta are more than a match for them anyway.”
He didn’t think his brother would respond to the flattery. But the red flush faded from Tarlan’s cheeks and he cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Can you fly on to Castle Darrand?” he called to Kalia. “Just keep to the road—you can’t miss it.”
“I can,” Kalia replied with a reluctant nod. “What are you going to do?”
“Not me,” said Tarlan, grinning. “Gulph’s going to do a little recruiting.”
• • •
As Gulph had anticipated, the Vicerin soldiers received them with caution. Once Theeta had landed, they surrounded the thorrod, albeit at a considerable distance. Tarlan seemed pleased about this—it would give them plenty of room to take off in a hurry if things went bad.
A Kingdom Rises Page 16
