The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two)

by James Maxwell

  A wall of fire rose up between the elementalist and the swordsman in green. The flames crackled, sending forth a furious wave of heat that drove the swordsman back. The elementalist then put his wrists together and pulled them slowly apart. In between his wrists, connecting the cuffs, there was now a single line of purple fire, too bright to look at.

  The elementalist looked down at Shani. He started to crouch down, ready to drive the line of fire across her neck.

  "No!" the single word came from the swordsman. He leapt through the wall of flame, his song forgotten, completely disregarding the danger. Once on the other side he spoke a sequence and flung out his arm, pointing his blade at the elementalist. A bolt of pure energy left the point of the sword and struck the Petryan in the throat.

  The elementalist toppled over, his eyes already sightless as he hit the ground.

  "You women are a lot of trouble," Bartolo said, before he too, fell to the ground, his blackened armoursilk flickering as the magic left it.

  34

  AFTER a short time that felt like an eternity, Ella finally rushed back to the Poltoi Palace with healers. Fortunately, no more surprises awaited the prince's men, and the palace was soon secured. While Shani and Bartolo were under the care of two Hazaran elders and Ella paced outside, Prince Ilathor came to her to confirm the battle was over.

  Tlaxor was taken, yet High Lord Haptut Alwar had somehow escaped.

  The prince tried to talk to her, but Ella left him and walked back down to the city's gate, looking down at the splashes of blood on the ground. It was over now, she thought, still dazed, realising she was lucky to be alive.

  She looked out the gate and over the frozen lake at the shore. She had enabled this city to be taken. It was a strange feeling.

  A Petryan suddenly rushed up to the gate, staring out at the lake, soon joined by another. The prince's men stirred and kicked their horses into motion, coming over to where a growing crowd of Petryans stood looking out the gate.

  "What is it?" Ella asked.

  "It's Haptut Alwar," the Petryan said, pointing. "I would stake my life on it."

  All thoughts of confrontation forgotten, the Hazarans and the Petryans stood side by side looking at the man walking on the expanse of frozen water.

  The solitary figure moved across the ice, richly dressed, a chest in his arms.

  "We'll catch him," one of the Hazarans said.

  "Will you put him on trial?" said one of the Petryans.

  "If that's what you want," a voice to Ella's side spoke, and turning, she saw Prince Ilathor beside her.

  "No," the Petryan said, his words tinged with venom. "Trial would be too good for the man whose favourite method of execution was to boil a man in the lake."

  "Or a child," said another Petryan.

  "Or a woman," said another.

  "You might have your wish granted," Prince Ilathor said.

  Ella looked at the lake, and realised what she had been staring at but was too dazed to realise.

  Steam rose from the ice.

  "I thought you said a full day, Ella?" said the prince.

  Ella looked out in the direction of Torlac. A thin trail of smoke curled up from the area of the town. She hoped no one had been hurt. The cellars under the barracks were far from the homes of the locals.

  "It looks like I was wrong," Ella said.

  "It's good to know that's possible." Ilathor smiled.

  When Haptut Alwar, the tyrant High Lord of Petrya, was half-way across the ice, he suddenly stopped.

  "How long will it take to change?" Prince Ilathor asked.

  "At a guess? The sheet on top is the last of it. Underneath, it's already boiling hot."

  The richly-robed figure took one more hesitant step. By now, a large crowd of Petryans had gathered, all watching the drama unfold, everything else forgotten.

  On the shore, close to where the crowd stood, Ella could see the water bubbling and boiling as Lake Halapusa returned to its natural state.

  High Lord Haptut Alwar took three more steps.

  Then, with a blood-curdling scream, the Petryan High Lord fell through the ice.

  ~

  ELLA left when the Petryans and Hazarans started to take bets on how long he would take to die. Haptut Alwar thrashed and cried, moans of anguish coming from his throat as he tried to swim through water that grew hotter with every passing second.

  It was even better than it would have been before, the Petryans said, with the water slowly heating up. The longer he lasted, the better.

  Ella returned to the Poltoi Palace as singing and dancing started in the streets. The High Lord's most fervent supporters were rounded up, and she tried to ignore their screams as they, too, were thrown in the lake. Ella was glad the Petryans saw it as liberation, rather than conquest. She hoped the future would now be brighter for these passionate people.

  "Salute, enchantress," the Hazaran guard said when Ella approached the chamber where the healers had taken Shani and Bartolo. The man rose, a strangely bashful expression on his face. "I'm sorry, but you cannot go in there."

  "Why not?" Ella demanded. "Are they all right? I want to see my friends."

  "They are fine," the guard soothed. "Please, come back another time."

  "What's wrong?" Ella said. "Are they badly hurt?"

  Ella pushed forward, and the guard tried to stop her, grabbing onto her wrist, but she spoke a word and he snatched his hand away with a yelp.

  Ella turned the handle of the door and opened it. "Shani? Bartolo?" she called. "Oh…"

  Ella stepped back and immediately closed the door. She knew her face must be bright red.

  "I tried to warn you," the guard said.

  "I see," Ella said. "Well… I'm glad to see they're well and recovering, both of them."

  "It seems that way to me." The guard grinned.

  "Good night," Ella said.

  Ella walked back out of the Poltoi Palace and onto the terrace where Bartolo had saved her and Shani's lives. A bladesinger and an elementalist — who would have thought! She knew they would be good for each other, and most of all she was happy for Shani. Love came from the strangest of places.

  She could hear singing and warbling music wafting up from below, carried on the warm, moist breeze. Looking out, Ella saw that the sun was about to set. Ella was again taken by the view from the top of the tiered city. It had been a long, eventful day.

  "Always I come to you, and always you leave me," a male voice, smooth as silk, came from behind her.

  Ella turned and caught Prince Ilathor's smile, even as the sun fell behind the crater's edge and the stars came out. "Does it seem that way?" she said.

  Barely visible in the rapidly fading light, she saw the prince shrug. "It seems that way. The first time was in the desert, when I thought you were Evora Guinestor, High Enchantress of Altura. The second time was high in the tower above Torlac, when I again felt the connection between us. The third time was just now, by the gate of this city. Here I am. Please don't leave me a fourth time, Ella."

  "Everyone is celebrating," Ella said.

  "But not you?"

  "I'm tired. I don't even know where I'm sleeping tonight."

  "It's all been taken care of. Just down the hill from the Poltoi Palace is the house of a merchant, a man kind enough to put his rooms and servants at our disposal. I do not know if house is the appropriate term, his manse is nearly as big as this palace."

  "Thank you, Your Highness."

  "No, Enchantress Ella. Thank you." He paused. "For today, I mean. You were… amazing."

  "I think I'm going to lie down," Ella said. She reached out and squeezed the prince's hand. "Good night, Your Highness."

  Prince Ilathor didn't let go of her hand. Ella could feel his cool, dry touch, her hand enveloped in his larger one. His thumb ran over the skin on the back of her hand, sending a tingle travelling up Ella's arm and down her spine.

  "At least let me walk you down," Prince Ilathor said.

 
Before they left Ella took one last look at the view from the terrace outside the Poltoi Palace. Once again the moon was out, but this time the shimmer on Lake Hapalusa was closer, and even the sparkling stars were reflected on the water. Ella's hand was still held in the prince's, but she didn't let go; she'd seen so much horror and death this day that his touch held a strong affirmation of life.

  The prince spoke as they walked. "I received a message today," he said. "Something I have been saving for you."

  Ella turned her head sharply. "What message?"

  "The allied army of Alturans and Halrana has crossed the Sarsen into occupied Halaran. Your brother, the Lord Marshal, led his men to a great victory. They have salvaged many Halrana constructs and they have a thousand of the small hunters with them."

  "Dunfolk," Ella said. Could it be true?

  "Yes, Dunfolk," the prince said, squeezing her hand. "Not only do they have Dunfolk archers with them, but they have Alturan archers of their own, carrying a new weapon they call a rail-bow. These weapons have proven to be decisive, and the Lord Marshal is penetrating deeper into Halaran. Some say he is heading directly for Ralanast."

  "Truthfully?" Ella said. "Do I have your word?"

  "Ella, do you need to ask?"

  Miro! Ella felt tears come to her eyes at hearing her brother was not only alive and safe, but actually pushing the enemy back. "That's… That's wonderful news." Ella said.

  Perhaps there was some end to this war in sight after all. Ella thought about Bartolo and Shani, desperately locked together in embrace. There was still love in the world, even amidst the horror. She thought about herself, and the little experience she'd had with love. After the day of bloodshed, the terror stronger than any she'd felt before, didn't she deserve to feel someone warm beside her?

  Prince Ilathor led her to the wrought-iron gates of a three-storied stone building. Some Hazaran guards nodded and placed their hands on their hearts when the prince and Ella walked through the gates, following a paved path through a garden to the door of the manse.

  Without knocking, Prince Ilathor pushed open the door, holding it open so Ella could walk in, and then allowing it to shut behind them.

  "Tish-tassine," the prince said, and instantly nightlamps set into the walls and ceiling lit up from one end of the manse to the other.

  "I suppose I should get to bed," Ella said. "Where is everyone?"

  "The master of the manse and his family have vacated at my request," Prince Ilathor said. "There is no one here but you and me."

  Ella and the prince stood in an expansive entertaining room. The floor was marble and there were framed canvases on the walls: Petryan landscapes and even a haunting image of the Hazara Desert at night. At the back of the room were thick carpets, low benches, and piles of embroidered cushions with patterns of crimson and gold. A squared column stood in the middle of the room, rising to the high stone ceiling, and each facet of the support carried a tall rectangular mirror, so that Ella could see the prince's broad shoulders, tall back and long dark hair, as he stood with his back to the mirror.

  Ella could also see herself reflected in the silver. Her straight, blonde hair fell past her shoulders; it had grown long, she realised, nearly to her waist. Ella's green enchantress's dress, long-sleeved and hooded, clung to her body, the silk sheer and supple. The magic in her dress meant it looked new and fresh, as if she hadn't just fought in a great battle — hadn't nearly been killed. It followed the contours of her body in a way she had never been fully conscious of before.

  Had her body filled out more, in the last year? Her calves were lean and her legs tapered only slightly from her hips. But her hips seemed a little wider, and her waist a little narrower. Her breasts were never large, but the silk of the dress pressed up against them, and if the dress had been lower cut, Ella was sure she would have been displaying cleavage. The skin at her wrists and throat was pale, infinitely lighter than Ilathor's, and Ella's green eyes looked seriously back at her from her heart-shaped face.

  "Is it really just us?" Ella said in a small voice.

  "Yes," the prince said the word like a whisper, or like the hiss of a snake, soft and sibilant.

  He took a step towards her and gazed down at her. Ella looked up at him, suddenly afraid. They were from such different worlds. Was this really going to happen?

  "You are my desert rose," Ilathor said. "It was in memory of you that I chose the symbol for my house." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Lord of Fire, how I wept when I thought you were gone."

  Prince Ilathor lowered his head, closing his eyes as his lips found hers. This time when the shock hit her it was powerful, so strong that she almost made a sound. Ella's mouth sought his as tingling waves ran up and down her spine, and as their tongues met she felt a melting warmth welling up from inside her.

  The prince's arm came round behind Ella's back, and she felt his hand caressing her dress in the small of her back.

  Then, as they continued to kiss, with a smooth sensation of pleasure flowing through every fibre of Ella's body, the prince's fingers found the buttons at the back of Ella's dress.

  Ella tensed, suddenly as taut as a drum, before she again relaxed as the prince undid the topmost button and moved to the next. His other hand caressed the hair on the back of her head, stroking the soft silken strands, before he followed the contours of her back down, feeling where her hips curved in at her waist.

  He had now undone four of the buttons, and there was no sign of him stopping. Ella wasn't sure if she wanted him to stop. Part of her was frightened but the prince was gentle. As he moved onto the fifth button, his other moved around to her front, travelling up the smooth silk and touching the bottom of her breast through the material.

  Ella's tongue and his sought each other, his lips strong and insistent, their mouths wet and hungry.

  The prince undid the last of the buttons and broke off their kiss, pushing her away from him. As Ella's lips left his, a tiny moan escaped her lips. She could feel the back of her dress open to her waist, her skin bared to the warm air. The prince's expression was intent as he reached forward and pulled the material away from Ella's left shoulder.

  Without being aware of what she was doing, Ella slid her arms out of the sleeves. Ilathor reached forward to assist, but she held his hands away, and at the end, she did it herself. She pulled the dress down to the tops of her breasts, and with each motion, more of her skin was revealed to the prince's hungry gaze. Her left breast came free, and then her right, the nipples round and pink. Ella blushed; she had never willingly revealed herself to a man in this way. She pulled the dress down still further, to her narrow waist, the material growing tight when she reached the top of her hips.

  Ella looked past the prince, at the mirror, where she could see herself exposed, her golden hair falling over the tops of her breasts. It somehow drove home what she was doing, so that she knew it deep in her core. She was undressing herself for a man.

  She pushed the dress down past her hips, past her black undergarment, and let the dress fall down to the floor, stepping out of it. She blushed again when she looked up at the prince and could see herself in the mirror behind him. Ella's flat belly led to the small triangle of material she wore over her womanhood, and the black against her white thighs drew attention to her hips and legs. Embarrassed, Ella hung her head.

  She felt her head tilted back up, and the prince kissed her. She felt his hand on her left breast, teasing the nipple between his fingertips, each touch sending a shiver through her body. The warmth beneath her belly was growing so intense that she knew she couldn't stop, could never stop. Didn't want to stop. She felt his left hand now move to her right breast, until the nipple there also turned hard, so sensitive that her breath caught. His right hand travelled down, over her belly, tickling the little dimple there for an instant, before he reached the sheer black undergarment.

  He ran his hand down to her thighs, and without meaning to, as their tongues caressed and his touch on her breast gave
her feelings she'd never felt before, Ella moved her legs to stand slightly apart.

  His fingers ran over her thighs, feeling the smooth texture of her skin, and then even through his kiss, Ella gasped.

  The prince ran his fingers over the top of the black material, feeling both over and then underneath, and he pressed in gently. Waves of incredible pleasure flowed through Ella's body.

  His other hand left her breast, but the kiss continued. He took hold of each side of the black fabric and pulled it down. Ella broke the kiss and moved away slightly, looking up at the prince and feeling the undergarment fall down her legs, finally kicking it to the side.

  He looked down at her, not hiding the intensity of his gaze. A small triangle of hair, sparse and light-coloured, covered the cleft between her legs. Under his gaze Ella felt wicked to be revealing herself, which strangely sent more pleasure running through her. The prince reached down and covered the hair with the palm of his hand, and Ella felt his finger slip inside her.

  He resumed their kiss, and she whimpered into his mouth.

  Ella made him stop, holding him at arm's length while she removed his clothes. Soon they both stood naked.

  Prince Ilathor pulled Ella down, to a place where carpets and cushions lined the floor.

  Her legs opened as he found her, and Ella cried out into the night.

  35

  MIRO knew that all people suffered from doubts, but he also knew that not everyone's decisions affected as many people as his. He didn't know if that made his doubts greater, or more important. Were a father's doubts, when worrying about a sick child, wondering whether to sell his tools to pay for a healer, any less important? Miro didn't know.

  He knew he was rash, and intemperate, and sometimes too informal both with his men and his superiors. He was often ruled by his heart, a trait he tried to temper with sleepless nights at the simulator and long discussions with Marshal Beorn or High Lord Rorelan. He didn't always know that what he was doing was right, but he believed that doing something was always better than doing nothing.