I kissed his cheek and left before there was another protest. Dalandaras would help him, and Lorandal would find his way to them. No, I would find Ellsmid alone. I could not hope to convert all of Winter’s Crown to my cause, not when some subordinate would step up to take the governorship, but her threat to the old magic would be eliminated. Then I would only have to deal with the elves.
I knew the way well, skirting the stone hallways, pausing at every scrape of boot or cough of breath. The Lady wanted command and I let her have it, knowing she could get me there more quickly. If what Tiri said was true, then I could trust no one in the Governor’s quarters.
I drew Dauntless silently as I came to the center of the Fort, and the Governor’s rooms. There were guards at the doors to the personal chambers. Torchlight cast their faces in profile, but I did not recognize them. Swift and silent, I slit the throat of the first guard as I passed him by, then impaled the second, covering his mouth as he let out his last attempt at a cry. He sank to the floor, and I slipped through the doors.
The entrance room was empty, the tapers low and shadows long. I passed to what had functioned as a sitting room, and found an unfamiliar scribe, young and soft and wrapped in a blanket. I felt pity for him but that was all, as I ran him through and killed him.
I crept to my father’s bedroom, expecting Ellsmid asleep. But it was empty, the bed readied for an occupant but that was all.
I went to the next, unused in my father’s time and unused now. I even checked mine, the smallest of them, but it had been raided and stripped bare.
Where would Ellsmid be near midnight? It was hard to picture her socializing with her men and women.
I went to the hallway to my father’s office. It was exposed to the elements, biting cold with the night wind. No torch or taper was lit, and I could see none under the door. Still, I pushed it open and entered, Dauntless at the ready.
And then my side erupted in sharp, burning pain.
I fell back into the doorway and then Ellsmid was there, her sword in hand. I had no time to think but to clutch my side and parry her blow. I shoved her back enough to move into the room, slipping behind my father’s desk. One of the candelabra was lit, and I saw blood on my side. It was a slash, not deep but long. It stung fiercely.
“I did not expect that to be so easy,” Ellsmid said as she regained her footing. Her hair was unbound but she was still in her tunic and trousers, dressed as she had been when I had first seen her.
“I would not count this as much of a victory,” I replied, but she had a grin on her face.
She didn’t attack, just guarded the door to stop me from leaving. I had done her a favor by coming inside and not leaving an escape. But I had not thought to need one. What was I missing?
My brain was growing fogged, my chest tight. And then her blade caught the glint of the firelight. Something else was covering the steel.
“Do you see it now?” Ellsmid asked. “Did you think I would be a lady of chivalry?”
A bitch like Zarah. She had poisoned her sword. I had counted on this fight being in my favor, but she had just made it a fairer fight.
The Lady’s power was working to counter the poison, to purge it from my body, but it wasn’t something I had done before. I was weak after healing Father; I would be weaker still as the purge started to use my strength.
Was this the fault that had driven Adhannor to draw my dead mother out into the open, this sudden weakness? Bringing Zarah had been folly. What was there to prove with bringing my mother out into the open? All it did was confirm that he had power, and goaded me into attacking him. If he had been kind, and gentle, then perhaps I could have been tempted into complacency. So what would I do with Zarah? I wanted to launch Zarah at Ellsmid, to command her to fight this friend of hers, to end her and enjoy the pain that came from both of them. It would be some small amount of vengeance for all of this. What I needed was an ally. But I had sent the foulings away. So would have to settle for the second best—a creature under my command.
I brought forth Zarah. She formed out of the air, a whirlwind who brushed papers aside, then split the desk in two as she formed. Ellsmid backed up, eyes wide, as her old friend appeared before her. Zarah came laughing as she had before, but on seeing Ellsmid, her laughter turned to sobs. “Oh, Ellie!”
I felt her need to hug her friend, to go to her and embrace her. But I kept her back, holding onto her by that thread that connected us.
“Take a good look at her. She’s done this to herself,” I told Ellsmid. “What will you do to yourself to obtain the old magic?”
“Release her,” Ellsmid said, her voice shaking.
“I cannot,” I said.
“Release her.”
“Release her and do what?” I asked. “She is doomed because of her folly, Ellsmid. There is no cure.”
“Oh Zarah,” Ellsmid murmured.
I could feel my legs weaken, my body shake. My clothes were damp with the sweat of fever. I had to leave now.
“Attack her,” I ordered Zarah. All expression left her face, and she complied.
“Zarah!” Ellsmid shouted as her former friend charged her, sword raised.
I did not wait for an outcome but dodged around Ellsmid and ran down the hall. My footsteps were thudding now, my breath ragged. The Lady was working hard to burn out the poison, but it was hard work. I reached out for Dalandaras, let him feel the urge of my failure, let him and the foulings know how much we truly needed to leave.
Soldiers met me at the entrance, meeting me on the other side of their colleagues’ dead bodies. I cut them down without a thought, the clash of their steel against mine ringing hard up my arm. I took the most direct route down the Fort, dodging the soldiers that I could. I heard the pop of rifles, the shouts of men and women. I saw even more turn away, or their shots going wild. It seems Bardol’s word had gotten around quickly, or they had decided of their own accord to not hinder me.
The gates between the Fort and the town were wide open, and I ran through. A bullet caught my shoulder, little more than a sting; others tore my cloak. I felt my foulings in the shadows, seeking my attackers and taking them down quickly and quietly. I urged them to follow me, to protect my father and Ehledrath and the others. I was too wounded—my commands were not holding them.
I passed houses and businesses, their windows shuttered and doors barred. Ellsmid’s loyal men were slow to catch up to me. I heard the clatter of cart wheels and horses’ hooves, and the swift, heavy thudding of the brutehaulers. Then there was a deep rumble, and the gate to the Fort was alight in smoke and fire. Bardol had done his job quickly.
Another explosion shattered the eastern town gate. And then I came to the main road, and nearly collided with a cart laden with supplies. Several more followed, men and women jumping onto them even as they pulled on cloaks or drew their swords and loaded their rifles. Father’s men.
Iasul was on the first card, struggling with the thick reins of the brutehaulers. They were great beasts more like hairy oxen than horses; they were slow, but would get men and provisions to Tal Aesiri through the easier passes while barely breaking stride.
Still more men and women came on horseback, clad in what winter gear they could grab on short notice. By my tally there were a hundred or so, growing in number but still hardly a great force to fight both Ellsmid and the Dagnar.
Tunir rode up on a shaggy horse of his own, his mother close behind. “Where’s my father?” I demanded.
“At the rear with the elves,” Ehledrath replied. “He insisted on being the last to go.”
“Get them out of here, then!” I replied, and charged down the line of carts. Two were supplies, men hurriedly covering them in tarps. Three carried men and women alike. A sixth was being loaded, my father shoving men and women on as they came. With those coming out of the shadows to join us, we were up to two hundred.
“Get on!” I ordered him. The cloak he now wore was elvish, and I found Lorandal beside him. “Get him
up and out of here, Lorandal!”
“You’re bleeding,” Lorandal replied.
“A scratch,” I said, which was true enough, just not the whole truth. Every breath burned now. I wasn’t certain the old magic was winning against the poison, but there would be no rest for me until we were out of Winter’s Crown.
“Hurry,” I ordered, and shoved my father up next to the driver. With of a flick of the reins the brutehaulers moved, following the companions out of the town.
I followed, facing into the town, my sword drawn. My foulings fanned out, guarding the tail end. Behind me, at the front of the convoy, I could hear shouts and the clang of steel, and pistol rapport. I could only hope that few were losing their lives over any confrontation.
Suddenly, Zarah’s soul slammed into me and I staggered back. The rock was there again, hard and icy, the burden of her imprisonment. Either I had moved too far from her for her to maintain form, or Ellsmid had done enough to defeat her friend.
Finally, the last cart passed through the gate. Bodies littered the road, both uniformed and civilian. Bardol and Dalandaras were there, setting charges against the arches of the gate in leather bags and wooden barrels.
“No fuse,” Dalandaras ordered. “I will take care of the lighting.”
Bardol dropped the cord he was holding, and dashed between the foulings and past me. “As you say, elf!”
“Dalandaras,” I said as the cart sped up, and I had to jog to keep up.
My lover joined me, urging me faster. “It will be large,” he said. “I gave Bardol and his men what help I could.
We were one hundred, two hundred, then three hundred feet before I saw Ellsmid’s soldiers lining up in the gate, rifles at the ready. “Dalandaras…”
“Do the honors,” he said.
“Thaeglir,” I murmured, just as the first volley was fired.
The world lit up in bright flame, the explosion filling my ears with a great roar until I heard nothing but that, and the ringing. A great pain rent my head, just at my right temple, and I fell to the ground. All breath was stolen from me and I lay in the snow, watching as stone and smoke and fire blew high into the night air, casting a grim dance of light and shadow against the low-hanging clouds.
I heard my name, but could not answer.
Then Annel was there, licking my face with slow flicks of her tongue. Then Dalandaras lifted me, and everything was dark.
CHAPTER TEN
The harsh light of fire seemed to beam down on me every time I dared to open my eyes. I never opened my eyes in the darkness. The night was for dreaming, and sleep, and constant movement beneath me. I was in a cart, and it jostled back and forth as it cut through the snow and caught at the rocky ground, or slipped on a hidden patch of ice. At night I could feel my foulings spread far and wide around the caravan of travelers, scouting ahead, keeping watch for any followers, bringing back snow hares or white deer to feed the two hundred humans that surrounded me.
It was a strange state to be in.
I heard Dalandaras and Father more often than not, their voices circling around me or their hands holding mine beneath the cloaks that had been draped over me. I could feel the power of the Lady within me, but it was as a tight ball in my stomach, not as an all-encompassing power that could heal me and strengthen me.
What had happened?
I remembered the poison, and the explosion, but could not recall otherwise what could have injured me so.
And then, when I could open my eyes fully and felt conscious once more, I was not in the cart. There was white stone above me, a smooth ceiling. There was light, too, but not from a torch or taper or even the pure light of the elves’ fire. It was sunlight, bright and fresh. A cold breeze brushed over me as well, cold and clean. On my left was a wall, the same smooth stone that was above me. The same with behind my head. To my right there was a little bit of extra space in the room, and then a doorway. But there was no door, only a thick hanging of leather. Someone had managed to put metal pegs in the wall, and hung the leather off of it.
I was covered, with blankets and cloaks. The scent of Dalandaras’ cloak surrounded me, as did my own.
I shoved the cloaks off, found myself stripped to my trousers and breast band. My stomach was bound, the bandages stained rust red at my side from the wound Ellsmid gave me. I rolled, but could only swing one leg over the side of the mattress only to find no floor there. I looked further, and realized I was on a cot, carved from the wood of the trees found at Tal Anor.
Old magic hummed beneath me, around me, and confirmed that was where we were.
My head was light, and spun as I sat up. My stomach was perilously empty, but I wasn’t hungry. I just needed sustenance to restore my head. I needed to think.
I managed to stand. My side tightened, the pain sharp. I clutched at it, willed for the old magic to come up from below me, to heal me and hold me upright. I stumbled to the doorway, and cast the leather open. The sun pierced my eyes. I keeled over and vomited, my stomach heaving and throat constricting. It was bile, burning my throat and tongue on its way out.
“I have you,” Dalandaras murmured in my ear.
“Is she okay?” I heard Father demand. “The fever?”
“Broken,” Dalandaras replied. “You must rest, Eva.”
“Too much,” I murmured. Too much to do. We had to secure ourselves. We had to be safe. Had we lost men? Had the cold killed them, or Ellsmid’s bullets?
“I know,” Dalandaras said, pressing his lips to my temple. “We are taking care of everything. You must rest. Annel.”
I heard the rustle of fur and the huff of my fouling as my lover lifted me up, bringing me back into the shelter of my room. He tucked me in like I was incapable of it. I was; I could barely lift an arm. He covered me back up, smoothing the hair from my forehead. “You will rest,” he ordered. “Annel, keep her here.”
I felt Annel rest her chin on my arm, and then I slipped back into slumber.
When I awoke again, it was to the smell of a meat broth. Deer, if my nose was right. Father sat on the floor next to me with Annel next to him. He held a bowl in his hand.
“Dalandaras said he could feel you waking up,” Father said quietly. The bruises on his face were fading fast. He held up the wooden bowl. “We’ve forgotten spoons in our hasty departure, I’m afraid. Drink it.”
He held it to my lips, and I did. It wasn’t enough to satisfy me, but it was just enough.
“What has happened?” I managed to ask, my throat raw.
“Rest,” Father said. “Lorandal wants you to stay here.”
I reached out with the old magic to find Dalandaras, and knew he was down at the lake showing a group of humans how to catch the winter fish that swam through the area. “And you?” I asked.
He forced the bowl to my lips again, and I drank. I caught a hunk of meat and slurped it in. It was soft, but chewing was an effort.
“You’ve healed me,” Father said with a bittersweet smile. “You shouldn’t have. I could have made it out.”
“You don’t know your injuries.”
“Lorandal told me what they were.”
“I think Ellsmid had your sword,” I said. “I couldn’t get it back.”
“I can find Adamant again,” he replied as I finished the soup. “I cannot find you again.” He stood, not quite hiding his wince. “I will find Lorandal to look you over.”
I let him leave without protesting. I was satisfied that he was alive, and that he would be safe at Tal Anor for the time being.
Lorandal came in, and Ehledrath followed. Even she looked improved.
“I hope you have not spread your talents too thin,” I told the elf.
He bowed his head to me. “It is more your doing than mine, Lady.”
Were we back to that again?
“All of the humans seem improved since they came here,” he continued. “They are still malnourished, but they are gaining strength. I think it is your magic.”
Neither spo
ke beyond that, each looking to each other to speak first, neither moving to do so.
And then my mother appeared behind them. She was ghostly and faint in appearance. I had thought her confined to Tal Aesiri, but she was here all the same, smiling sadly as she had so often after her death.
“What is wrong?” I murmured, though I did not know to which of the three I asked.
Lorandal sat on the edge of the cot, turning down the blanket to see my side. “It’s healing well,” he said. “Though it will be another scar for you. It was not a poison I was familiar with, but the Captain knew what it was.”
“Blackworm, they call it,” Captain Ehledrath smiled grimly. “An old recipe, but the makings can be easy to come by.”
“Ellsmid had coated her blade in it,” I said.
Outside the flap there was sniffing; Annel nudged the leather aside and let herself in, hopping onto the cot with ease and curling up on my legs. She was light, for a fouling.
“You are lucky that you are…different,” Ehledrath replied. “It would have killed any other human.”
My mother didn’t speak, but simply looked at me.
“What else is there?” I asked.
“A bullet grazed your head,” Lorandal said. “Just as the main gate blew. That very possibly could have killed you, as well, were you not the Lady.”
“That’s not it,” I said. I struggled to sit up, but Annel shifted to keep me laying low. “Something else is wrong. That’s why I’m weak. That’s why you’re both speaking to me alone.”
Ehledrath smiled at me, but it was tinged with sadness. “You’ve been surrounded by men for too long, I think.”
I glanced behind her—my mother stood, ghostly and tall, her golden hair whipped by that unseen sea breeze against the wind that howled outside the tent and caught at the canvas.
Annel rested her head on my belly. It was then I noticed a tiny swell to it, my skin taunt over it, not the soft stomach I had always had. Everything seemed to click at once.
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