Winter's Sword

by Alexandra Little

  Firien whispered to Aerik, who sighed. “You showed her, didn’t you, lass.”

  I nodded.

  “That can’t have been wise,” Father said.

  “I know,” I replied quietly. “But I had little other choice in the matter.”

  “Did she threaten you?” Father demanded. “Or threaten me?”

  I shook my head. “She is already in the sway of the blood magic, or at least in the sway of what it could do for her. I had thought showing her that trifling with me wasn’t wise, but I don’t think it made much of a difference. She intends to hold us here under the guise of an inquiry into the attack and Sir Aros’ death. She wants to march into the Dead Lands.”

  “Your race would not make it,” Firien said firmly. “You do not have the ships here to make it up the river, and marching over the mountains would be suicide.”

  “But the soldiers would obey her.”

  “Ehledrath would not,” Father said firmly. “She cares for her men too much.”

  “Then Ellsmid would dismiss her, and put another in her place. I’m sorry Aerlad, but you may need to leave sooner rather than later.”

  “Oh aye,” Aerlad took a drink, as Aerik slid some documents over to me. “We drafted what was needed - permission for Aerlad to requisition ships and supplies in your name, and a call to adventure to our privateer friends.”

  Aerik heated the wax, and I half-drew Dauntless. Mother never wore a signet ring - her signet was Dauntless and the shell embossed in the hilt. I pressed it twice into the wax, and then for good measure I nicked my thumb and pressed its bloody print next to the seal. All in Port Darad would know that this was dire. With Aerlad’s tale, I would hopefully have the reinforcements I needed.

  “When is the meeting you arranged with Captain Ehledrath?” I asked quietly.

  “One a.m.,” my father whispered. “In the cellar beneath the Rickety Leg.”

  Aerlad folded the documents and tucked them in a small neck pouch, which she tucked underneath her undershirt. “You can trust me, m’lady. I’ll get everything done, and quickly.”

  “I trust you, Aerlad.” I hugged her, squeezing tight. “It’s getting you out of here that I don’t trust. Aerik, Firien, will you escort them down the Trade Road?”

  “The gates close at ten now,” Aerlad said. “You’ll both have to be back before then.”

  A curfew. Even my father had not enacted a curfew.

  We set the three of them off, and walked back through the town, and halted at the gates to the Trade Road.

  “Please don’t go beyond the walls, sir,” a soldier murmured to my father. “She’ll have our heads if we let you.”

  “I understand,” my father said amiably. “Don’t worry.”

  But the soldier didn’t look too certain about that.

  Only when Aerlad, Aerik, and Firien were safely unhindered down the road, did we turn back to the town. Dalandaras brought the usual stares with his white skin and hair, and the sheen that came from it when he caught the sunlight. “Where to now?” I asked Father.

  “To try a peaceful solution,” my father replied. “If what you say about Ellsmid is true, then I would have as few men as possible fight for her. I must hope that many here are still loyal to me.”

  “You hope that they refuse to take up arms,” Dalandaras murmured. “That is daring.”

  “And it would help to show them that elves are not monsters,” my father added. “So try smiling. You may have charmed my daughter, but my boys and girls won’t be so easily swayed.”

  I bit my tongue, and let my father walk us around the town. One Father approached his first building - a house where the man had been injured in a mining accident - we couldn’t walk more then ten feet without getting mobbed. Mother had done much the same with her people, but I had not seen Father do it before - he talked about how the mining was, whether the hospital was well-stocked, what the accidents had been since he was gone. Did the cider still flow at the taverns? He hoped the bread was still fresh. The greenhouse had been damaged in the attack, and the repairs had been minimal - it was not a priority of Lady Ellsmid’s to have it fixed. Father promised his own personal funds to make more glass and import more seeds, so that the crop could be made up.

  No one asked where he had been.

  Either they had been told not to, or they didn’t seem to dare, though they mentioned the attack as if it was already a memory. Father congratulated a young girl who had been caught on the Trade Road when Adhannor had called forth his monster, and had gotten a shot off with a rifle that was far too big for her. Though it had done little good, the girl had added, but even Eva praised her for her courage.

  Slowly, they made their way to the Rickety Leg. Darkness began to fall in the sky. It seemed to come earlier and earlier now. Had summer passed? How could Ellsmid dare to send soldiers to the Dead Lands when summer had passed?

  Dalandaras humored father, and showed his skin and his ears, and taught silly words to the children who asked. Then they reached the tavern, and were plied with food and mead and cider, and music to keep the chill away. Candles were lit, and the hearth fire roared, and the tavern seemed packed full. Had I ever seen it like this? I had been here often enough, joking with the soldiers and miners and teaching them the salty songs of the sailors, and they teaching me their own salty melodies. Aerik and Firien returned, and a fresh round was passed to them. I said my greetings to the barkeep and her children before she sent them off to bed.

  The hours tolled, but the numbers in the tavern reduced only slightly. Then at midnight, most of them were ushered out. Candles were extinguished, and the hearth fire allowed to deplete itself. Soon there were only twenty men and women left, my company excluded, as one o’clock approached. I worried, but Father kept up a pleasant face. Soon Ehledrath entered, along with her two sons.

  And then, as the night watch called one, the doors were bolted, and the remaining conversation fell silent.

  I take it we wouldn’t be moving to the cellar.

  Ehledrath cleared her throat. “As I told you all,” she said. “Lord Baradan would not have left us without good reason. We all saw the…the thing that attacked the Fort. And we all saw Lady Eva draw it off.”

  Twenty pairs of eyes turned toward me. “It is what I call a colossus,” I said. “A creature of ancient spirit, imprisoned by blood magic to serve Adhannor.”

  “You may need to explain more than that, lass,” Aerik murmured.

  I finally stood myself. “Adhannor was an elf, once. He was an elf long ago. The place that you call the Dead Lands is a place where old magic rises to he surface. It is a magic that has existed before humans ever did, before even the elves. Adhannor discovered it, and used a perversion called blood magic to take control of it. He slaughtered others and used their life force to gain control of the old magic. The collapsed mountain out there was his prison. The mountain collapsed when he broke free.

  “I had to go after him.” I didn’t know how to explain the inheritor magic to them, and decided not to try. Inheriting power from an elf through hundreds of generations was more far-fetched than an evil spirit. “My blood became involved in his awakening, as well as the four miners that disappeared down there. Adhannor killed them, and nearly killed me. We knew he would try again for me, and so I left. My father wouldn’t abandon me; he knew the safety of Winter’s Crown rested in drawing Adhannor away. We had no idea of Sir Aros’ death until the message came from Tal Uil. Unfortunately, Sir Aros’ death was caused by either Crowndan or Zarah.”

  The men murmured then. Patricide was a serious charge. I held up my hand. “I know the accusation is wild. But…keep in mind that Zarah was my best friend here. I would not accuse her without reason.”

  “What reason?” a man demanded. I could not put a face to the voice.

  “The blood magic,” I replied. “That is its power. It twists and corrupts whatever it touches. Before I discovered Adhannor’s resting place, Crowndan and Zarah discovered it. It per
verted them both. Both attempted to kill me and my father, and aide Adhannor. They failed, and we defeated Adhannor.”

  My father stood then. “You all know me,” he said firmly. “You have all served under me for ten years. Know that what my daughter says is true.”

  The men and women seemed to look to each other, conferring and consulting.

  “Well, then,” a young man close to me said. “What do we do about it?”

  Father looked to me. I looked back to him and gestured.

  “The first that you must do,” Father said slowly. “Is that you must tell the other men what we have told you tonight.”

  “We can,” an older man said. “But why? What use will it be? Ellsmid is still Lady Governor. She’s tearing this place apart, tightening the rules, jailing those that have too much to drink instead of just letting them cool off.”

  “She’s increased the hours on patrol, and shortened our time off,” a woman added. “We’re all exhausted.

  “I understand your frustration,” my father said. “But there is a larger problem coming. Ellsmid may want to march on the Dead Lands.”

  “That’s insane!” a man cried. “Sir, she surely wouldn’t make us do that.”

  “She told me as much today,” I said. “And soon.”

  “But, summer’s passing! The snows have gotten worse already.”

  “I know,” I said. “And between Winter’s Crown and the Dead Lands are a fierce range of mountains. You would never make it over; if you made it over, you would starve there, or freeze there. There may be colossi and undead and foulings and dreadwolves and all sorts of things to fear up there, but the weather would kill you before they did.”

  “She’s gone mad,” another woman said. “I knew it. We won’t march in that. We’d never be able to take all we need - furs, tars, provisions…”

  “And that is what I am asking of you,” Father said. “We’re asking that, if she orders it, you don’t march.”

  “You’re all leaders among your units,” Ehledrath said. “Your men will listen to you. Other men will listen to you. There are those that will follow orders because that is what they are trained to do. No one likes duty at Winter’s Crown, but they come because they have to, because they’re ordered to. We need you to convince them that any marching orders from Ellsmid would mean suicide.”

  “They would mean suicide,” the young man muttered. “All right. We can do that.” The assent went around the men.

  Well, that was easy.

  “But what then?” the older man demanded again. “What do we do once we’ve refused? We’ll be brought up on charges. We could be shot for desertion.”

  “Well, that’s a load of horse shit,” Aerik said.

  The room quieted.

  “He’s right,” I realized suddenly. “Port Darad is under the Empire. Under the laws of the empire, a crew may mutiny but not face charges if the captain’s actions put the lives of his sailors in unacceptable danger.”

  “There are guidelines to it, of course,” Aerik scratched his beard. “But there must be something to the army as well.”

  “At the very least,” I said. “The entire regiment at Winter’s Crown could not face charges - news would get out as to why they revolted, and there would be outrage! Ellsmid would be taken for the fool she is.”

  “Counting on just that is dangerous,” Father admitted. “It’s no guarantee. But I am asking you all to take that chance.”

  A fist pounded on the door twice, then paused, then twice more.

  My heart froze, but Ehledrath spoke. “Your absence has been noted,” she said to my father and me. “I suggest you pretend drunkenness, and we all disburse slowly and quietly. You go first m’lord, m’lady; the rest of us can scatter when the attention is on you.”

  “Right,” Father said. “I’ve had too much to drink after being plied by my men.” He held out his arms. “Who will be my supporters?”

  I grabbed one, and Dalandaras the other. Ehledrath let us out, Aerik and Firien trailing behind. Not fifty feet up the road to the Fort, we encountered Ellsmid. Her face was full of fury and joy, as if she had been handed a present. “Lord Baradan,” she said.

  My father giggled. Giggled! “Lady Governor,” he said.

  “What mess is this?” she asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure…” my father said slowly, as if he had trouble finding his tongue.

  I cleared my throat and pretended I had had my fair share of mead and beer. “I’m afraid his men may have taken the chance to get their former Lord Governor a little sloshed.”

  “And the elves passed on the pleasure?”

  “They’re rather unaffected by it,” I explained.

  Aerik staggered past, Firien seemingly having trouble keeping him aloft. “Oh, m’lady,” Aerik said, and nearly fell. “Do excuse me.”

  “I think it best we get my father into bed,” I said, and Dalandaras and I attempted to drag him past her.

  Ellsmid grabbed my arm. “Not so fast, my lady,” she murmured. From the shadows behind her, I could see Pirridan and several other plainly dressed soldiers. She had been hoping for trouble.

  “I really suggest you don’t do this,” I murmured to her. “Let me get my father to bed, aye? He never could handle his liquor.”

  I moved, but she squeezed harder. “We have curfew,” Ellsmid said. “And we have it for a reason. I would know where you were.”

  “Come now, my lady, you won’t punish a few men for having a little too much fun with their former commander?”

  “Who I choose to punish and why is my own affair. For the last time, lady, tell me where you were, and I will consider not throwing you into the dungeon beneath this keep.”

  From behind me came a growl, low, fierce, gravelly, and full of the old magic of the Dead Lands. My foulings had come to call.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I froze, as did we all.

  My fouling guardians had gotten into the town. How, I did not know, nor did I care. I could feel all five of them spread out behind me in a flanking line, keeping to the shadows but for Annel.

  I held out a hand, and the growling quieted.

  Father found his feet again, his arm no longer resting heavy on my shoulders.

  “The monsters,” Pirridan whispered, his eyes wide. He had done well, keeping his composure on the journey here, to now be so afraid of a few overgrown dogs.

  “You allowed them in?” Ellsmid asked with steel in her voice.

  “As I tried to explain to you, Lady Ellsmid,” I replied calmly. “Possessing the old magic is one thing; commanding it is another entirely.”

  “Kill them,” Ellsmid ordered.

  One of her men stepped out of the darkness, a rifle at his shoulder. I shoved Ellsmid aside and lunged for the man, even as Annel came up beside me, her claws out, her jaws open, desiring blood.

  If the man shot Annel, I would not be able to control the reaction of the other foulings. Even though Annel would not be long-harmed by such a pathetic musket ball, the foulings would have human blood. I couldn’t allow it.

  I spun in front of Annel, grabbed her by Annel, and took the bullet.

  I felt its impact in my back, distantly acknowledged it, but fell to my knees and put all my strength into holding Annel back.

  “Not here,” I whispered into her ear with all the command and depth the old magic could give me. “Not now.”

  “Hey!” a cry went out, and I looked back towards the tavern. It was Ehledrath and her sons, and several of the other soldiers that had been present at he meeting. They had just seen all.

  “Hold,” I murmured to my foulings. Though they scented blood now, they obeyed, and held fast to their positions. It was only then that I let the pain of the musket ball spread, the sharp throb pulsating in my left shoulder, my arm going weak. I truly fell to my knees then, a moment of human weakness playing out for all to see.

  “Eva!” I my father shouted. He ran to me, his hand feeling my shoulder. I cried out
for good measure as he probed the wound, though it did not take much doing on my part. I knew that when his hands came away from my back, they came up bloodied. “You shot her.”

  Aerik came to me to. No man seemed afraid of the fouling I still clutched in my arms.

  “Foolish, Lady Eva,” Ellsmid said.

  Someone cocked a pistol.

  “Find Lorandal,” Dalandaras said in Elvish. “Tell him to bring his medicine.”

  “You will go nowhere, elf,” Ellsmid said.

  Dalandaras spoke loudly. “You shoot the Lady of House Darad, the Lady of Tal Aesiri, the heir to House Carrin, and you presume to draw a blade on a Dagnar emissary?”

  I saw the the fear in the soldiers’ faces, and the smirk on Ehledrath’s. This was proving to be more useful to our cause than our earlier meeting.

  The shot, and the shouting, had attracted more attention. In the shadows of the bunkhouses and storehouses and taverns I saw other men and women emerge, some with their coats hurriedly thrown over nightclothes, others suited and armed for duty, having heard the commotion on their patrol.

  “It hasn’t gone through,” Aerik said as he tore open my tunic. “Only an entrance wound.”

  “It’s missed your shoulder blade,” Father said. “I don’t think it hit bone.”

  “Take it out, then,” I replied.

  “What?”

  “Take it out,” I said again, and gripped Annel. Then I whispered: “If we want your soldiers on our side, take it out now. Right now.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” Father said, but his fingers probed the wound. I bit back a moan - it wasn’t for show. Then I screamed, and Annel growled.

  “It’s okay girl,” Aerik said reassuringly.

  Father pulled away; he had gotten the bullet. “You shot my daughter, Lady Ellsmid.”

  “Your daughter consorts with monsters, Lord Baradan!” she said.

  “Do you see any monsters attacking you?” Father demanded. “Look around!” he spoke loudly as Dalandaras had done. “There are five foulings on this road, but the only blood that has been shed is by you, against a citizen of the Empire.”