The Boudiccate would never forgive him for it. Nor would the rest of the nation if the elves were to set the rest of their pet trolls rampaging in revenge.
“Go,” I said tightly, my fingers clenched around my rocky anchor as we rose higher and higher into the air. “Get yourself to safety, now. I’m the one who made the foolish mistake of walking up here in the first place. I’ll find my own way down.” Somehow.
I couldn’t whisk myself to the ground with any spell of my own, nor protect myself from the troll if it chose to lash out at me in its dozy, half-asleep state.
But there had to be something I could still do. There had to be. If I didn’t believe it was impossible…
What did impossible really mean, anyway?
It had been common knowledge all throughout my childhood that a young lady could never be accepted at the Great Library, any more than a human could ever converse with a troll. But that hadn’t stopped me, had it?
“Harwood, don’t be a fool,” Wrexham muttered as I lunged upward. “Take my—damn it, Harwood!”
I was already scrambling out of his reach, the force of my frustration propelling me as fiercely across the troll’s slanted, rising back as any of the unstoppable metal steam trains that thundered through the southern counties. “Gothan dag!” I bellowed, cupping one hand to my mouth as I clung with my other hand to the sloping ground.
It was the language of the old Deniscan invaders who’d carried the trolls with them in the first place over a thousand years ago. Even in the northernmost points of Angland, it had been centuries since almost anyone had spoken it apart from two or three of the most obsessively dedicated historians…
…Including my older brother, as it happened. Jonathan had taught himself as a youth out of academic curiosity, and then taught it to me as a useful secret language. All through my childhood, it had filled our letters to each other and our most private conversations. We’d retreated into it whenever we most needed a safe harbor from our parents’ disapproval or his classmates’ prying eyes.
Apparently, some creatures in this land were old enough to recognize it too.
The rocky surface beneath us went abruptly still.
Wrexham’s dark eyes widened. “You’ve certainly got its attention,” he murmured. He rose to his feet, giving the unmoving landscape a wary look, but he showed no signs of leaving to save himself…as usual. Would the man ever learn the value of a strategic retreat in any area of his life?
But there was no time to waste in that old battle.
“We apologize for disturbing you!” I shouted instead in Densk, aiming my words in the direction of the troll’s still-hidden head. “If you could let us safely off your back, please, we would be extremely grateful. And we’d make certain that no one else disturbs your rest any time soon, I promise! We would protect you from any other intruders!”
It was, of course, a perfectly safe promise to make. Once the tenants around here were alerted to the real nature of this “hill,” I was more than certain that they would all steer a wide berth around it. If any more incentive was required, Lord Cosgrave could be called in to add magical protections.
But for all the good sense of my strategy, Wrexham was staring at me with open shock.
“Good God,” he said. “The tone of your voice… You actually listened to some of your mother’s political lessons after all! I’ve never heard you actually negotiate with anyone before. I didn’t even know that you could!”
“Pah.” I narrowed my eyes at him. Of all the times to ramble nonsense! I had negotiated for years to make my entry into the Great Library…by utterly refusing to give up on my great plans until the world around me finally saw sense and accepted them.
But before I could come up with a properly sizzling retort, the ground suddenly dropped away beneath my feet.
The lantern slipped out of my hand as I fell. I lurched forward just in time to snatch the iron casing from mid-air…but with both hands full, I landed hard on the troll’s rocky back at a distressing angle.
My heart thudded in my tight chest, and my breath came in shallow pants. The spellcast bubble of warmth around me stopped the snow from soaking my coat and gown, but it couldn’t stop my knees and elbows from bruising badly. I bit back a curse as I pushed myself upright, only slightly mollified to see that Wrexham, too, had fallen into an undignified pose.
“It appears,” I said breathlessly, “that my negotiations may have worked. So—”
The troll’s stony knees hit the ground below us with a thud that rocked through my bones and sent us both sprawling in the snow.
“Ouch.” Wrexham picked himself up, wincing. “I should have known that if you ever did agree to negotiate on anything, the result would inevitably be painful for both of us.”
“Ohhh—!” Growling, I lunged to my feet and shoved the compass into the pocket of my greatcoat. “For once in your life, would you stop talking and run?”
I didn’t wait to hear his answer. Holding my too-constricting skirts high with my free hand, I leapt, skidded and half-slid down the rocky slope, grateful for Lady Cosgrave’s sturdy boots. The lantern’s light rocketed around me wildly as it swung from my right hand, sending beams of light shooting through the thickening veil of snow.
The sky above was growing noticeably darker already, shifting from light to dark gray as the pale winter sun slid down toward the horizon. This far north, it would be night-black soon, even though it wasn’t yet evening. And then…
Panting, I hurtled down the final yards of the troll’s bent back. The creature’s earlier movement had dislodged all of the accumulated earth and sod of centuries that had smoothed out the cracks between its crouching limbs when I’d first climbed up it. Now I had to grit my teeth, toss the lantern aside, and take a flying leap across the last ten feet to solid ground, bending my legs and wrapping my arms around my head for self-protection.
Distantly, I heard the sound of glass shattering as I landed and rolled across the snow.
Ow. Ow, ow, ow…
I rolled to a stop, breathing hard.
My shoulder hurt. My ribs hurt. My chest hurt.
It was glorious. I felt tinglingly, wildly alive for the first time in ages.
It was the absolute polar opposite of the last four months of smothering safety and silent tears and cosseting, overwhelming solicitude all around me.
Better yet, I had saved us both—with no magic required!
Exhilaration flooded my bruised body as I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring all of my aches and twinges along the way. “Well, then!” I smiled sunnily at my ex-fiancé, who stood three feet away from me, carefully brushing down his elegant greatcoat. “Now that I’ve solved that little problem, we can leave our friend to sleep for another century or two, and…”
A sound like thunder rumbled ominously nearby.
Snow continued to fall around us, soft-looking, white and steady without any hint of rain in sight. Wrexham’s head jerked up as I fell silent.
Both of us turned in the same moment to face the crouching troll. I took one nervous step backward.
It wasn’t far enough.
The thunder built into a deafening roar as the troll surged upright in one explosive movement that sent rubble and boulders flying through the air. I turned to run, already knowing it was too late.
Before I could take a single step, Wrexham knocked me to the ground, his voice snapping out as his arms wrapped around me. His words were lost in the roar of sound that surrounded us, but the effect was impossible to miss, even with my view half-blocked by his shoulder.
The boulder that had been aiming straight in my direction hung in mid-air for one paralyzed moment before dropping harmlessly to the ground. More and more rubble hit the same invisible wall before giving up and raining onto the ground before us.
I said, my voice reasonably steady given the circumstances, “That was a rather more powerful protection spell than Lord Cosgrave set on me earlier.”
“A sign th
at he hasn’t spent nearly enough time with you, clearly.” Wrexham levered himself up onto his elbows, craning his head to peer up through the flying clouds of rubble. “I don’t believe your friend up there is actually trying to attack us at the moment, just shake itself free. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to make my protection spell portable, so we’ll have to remain here for the duration.”
“Hmm.” It might be reasonable to grant even the most accomplished magician the benefit of the doubt when he’d been forced to cast a spell at a moment’s notice, in the midst of deadly peril. And yet…
I gave my ex-fiancé a suspicious look. Now that the immediate peril had passed, I could finally take note of our position...and with his arms braced on either side of my head, he covered me entirely, radiating warmth through his greatcoat in the most distracting manner.
I had thought, once upon a time, that we fitted together perfectly. But I had never before had the chance to test that theory quite so literally.
What nonsense. I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the disconcerting tingling sensations that were suddenly running through me.
Unfortunately, that movement only made them more intense. My breath was coming more quickly than before. I moistened my lips and fixed my gaze on the underside of his stubborn chin, just above me, to distract myself from other, more dangerous regions nearby.
Most of his throat, of course, was covered by his cravat, but the bits of light brown skin that were exposed looked perilously soft and touchable—almost as soft as the tips of glossy black hair that curled against the thick collar of his coat. If I lifted one hand...
No. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my recalcitrant body into submission. The time for allowing myself to be distracted by Wrexham’s physical presence was long past. I had not only given up that dream, I had thrown it away with both hands, and with the most vicious repudiation I could manage. If he realized how I was reacting to him now, after all that had passed between us, I would be humiliated forever.
And that realization was enough to make me stiffen like a board. My eyes snapped open. “I would have thought,” I said sharply, “that all those years of working for the Boudiccate would have given you the ability to calculate the details of your spells more precisely.”
“Oddly enough,” said Wrexham, still gazing upwards, “in all those years, I’ve never before been in a situation where you were about to be killed in front of me…at least not when I could actually prevent it.” For a moment, his voice flattened.
I went still, remembering it too. He had been the one who’d found me four months ago, stepping into my workroom barely a moment too late, just as the spell caught me in its grip...
But then he shook his head, and his lips twisted into a rueful grin as he finally looked down at me, his gaze alarmingly focused and intent. “Although…if I’d ever hoped for a single moment when you were forced to stop running and actually listen—”
“Oh, I think not,” I said, and twisted out from underneath him. “The rubble’s stopped falling,” I told him as I pushed myself swiftly to my feet, breaking through the bubble of his protective spell. “So it’s perfectly safe to start moving again.”
Wrexham muttered something under his breath. But I chose not to try to decipher his words as I took three perfectly calm and composed—and rapid—steps away from his prone figure.
There. Now I could breathe again. More than that, I could think.
The troll was looming over us, vast and rocky and unmoving, with its heavy stone arms hanging at its sides. I tipped my head back to peer up at it through the veil of snow and found it gazing down at me.
Its massive mouth opened. A gravelly, throaty roar emerged, as deep as thunder but a hundred times louder.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Pain battered my head and the earth shook beneath my feet as the troll’s roar echoed around the hills. I threw out my arms for balance, fighting to stay upright within that wall of nearly impenetrable noise...
But in the midst of it all, I could just make out a set of words I recognized in the rolling Densk that my brother had taught me so many years ago:
“Meddlers...Hurting...Changing...”
Oh, damnation. “I’m sorry!” I shouted back, cupping my hands around my mouth. “We didn’t mean to hurt you—”
But a high, clear voice spoke behind me in Anglish before I could finish bellowing my sentence.
“Oh, he wasn’t speaking about the two of you.”
I spun around as Wrexham leapt to his feet, his greatcoat billowing around him.
A tall, pale man with hair like glittering shards of ice and a shimmering blue, ankle-length coat stood on the snowy ground just behind me. Every silvery detail of his embroidered coat was bright and clear as a warning to my gaze, for the snowflakes that should have formed a veil between us shot away in all directions instead, clearing a path before him as if in honor...or in a frenzy to escape.
Not a man. I sucked in a breath as I met his gleaming white gaze through the clear air and realized who—and what—I must be looking at.
The troll wasn’t the only ancient creature in the elven dales to have woken to our presence today.
“He was speaking,” said the elf lord disdainfully, “of the mischief-makers who’ve brought this storm down on all of our heads with their thoughtlessness.” He arched one narrow, bluish-white eyebrow as he surveyed me. “But I do look forward to watching you keep your binding promise to my pet by dealing with them for him...now, if you please.”
4
Without so much as a word or a look exchanged between us, Wrexham and I were suddenly side by side, the thick sleeves of our greatcoats brushing against each other as we jointly faced my accuser. The massive troll loomed behind us, and my head still ached with the grinding echoes of its roar, but there was no question of which danger was more urgent.
Neither of us would dare turn our back on the troll’s master.
I wished now that I hadn’t released my lantern, shattered though its glass sides might be. Flung in his icily carven face, the iron frame might have won us a moment’s grace just when we most needed it to escape. But it lay useless in the snow ten feet away...and picking it up again now, in the elf lord’s presence, could be construed as nothing but an intention to attack.
He smiled unpleasantly as he looked us up and down. “Well? Not so quick to make any promises now, are you? I believe you’ll find your earlier promise binding, though, under the terms of our nations’ treaty. And those who rashly break their bargains with the elves—”
“No one has broken anything,” said Wrexham. His voice was calm, but a thread of steel ran through it. “I am an officer of the Boudiccate, and if a crime has been committed here—”
“If?” The elf lord gestured sweepingly, and the snowflakes scurried to get out of his arm’s way. “This storm is no act of nature. Someone has been meddling with the land’s own magic, and we will all feel the damage soon enough.”
“And you simply assume it was a human who did it?” I demanded. The injustice of that, at least, was enough to break the eerie spell of his presence. “How do you know it wasn’t one of your own people?”
His upper lip curled. “The laws in our kingdom utterly prohibit any such atrocity of nature, which torments our pets and endangers our hunts to the damage of all. It is our kingdom, not your nation, which is most harmed by this unnatural storm. Any observer with a shred of logic would tell you that one of your own mages—always so prone to risks and wild experimentation—must be the ones directing all of it. Your current mishmash of various tribes may claim to restrict their experiments, but when you leave a squabbling group of human women in control...” His eyes narrowed with sudden, dangerous interest, and his voice dropped as he stepped closer to me.
An icy chill pierced the bubble of my spellcast warmth, making me shiver.
“Take yourself as an example, woman,” he murmured, his white eyes fixed on mine. “There’s the scent o
f magic running through your bones, though your people claim to restrict its use to men. How...very...interesting. You, too, have been meddling where you don’t belong, haven’t you?”
I stiffened, fury simmering in my blood, but Wrexham spoke first. “Careful,” he said softly. “Your king may choose to treat his own nation’s ladies with disdain, but ours has been governed well by them for centuries. You would not wish to offend the Boudiccate.”
“Indeed, I can see just how frightening a force they must be, when their rules can be broken with such impunity.” The elf lord laughed, a jingle of broken bells. “And those who call themselves men but choose to submit themselves to such rulers...but then, I’m not looking at a born lord, am I?” He flicked Wrexham with a dismissive glance. “You’re one of the Boudiccate’s vagabond upstarts, aren’t you? Promoted far beyond your station, with no real understanding of your betters...”
If he couldn’t see Wrexham’s strength, he was a fool, and there was no point in taking offense at any of his jibes. I drew a deep breath and spoke with forced composure, drawing on the memory of my mother’s old political negotiations. I’d been forced to observe them only too often as her unwilling apprentice in the years before she’d finally given up on me. “Our weather wizards can barely predict whether it will snow or rain with any accuracy,” I told him, refusing to lower my gaze as I spoke the humiliating truth. “You must know we haven’t any magicians who could manage the weather itself and summon a storm like this one.”
The elf lord’s smile could have cut through frost. “Oh, I don’t believe for an instant that any of you could ever manage it. No, I think you were—as usual—playing with forces you couldn’t possibly hope to control.”
The accusation struck hard and close to home. My throat clenched. For a moment I couldn’t speak.
“You should have known you could never manage it...”
Wrexham’s shouted words from months ago hung in the air like frozen breath.
I did not turn to meet his gaze when I felt him glance at me. I couldn’t—not if I wished to control my expression in front of our common enemy.
Snowspelled: Volume I of The Harwood Spellbook Page 3
