by Jayne Castel
“How quickly did Anthor take the city?” Nathan asked.
Mira’s gaze clouded. “They breached the city gates within a matter of hours,” she replied. “After that it took them a day to get to the keep.”
Ninia frowned at the memory. She would never forget venturing out onto the swing bridge between the East Tower and The Swallow Keep to see the city aflame. Noise had assaulted her in a deafening roar. The Anthor army had swept through her city like a violent storm.
“Won’t Reoul ride out to meet us?” Asher spoke up. “Surely he isn’t a man to let his enemy come to him.”
Nathan huffed out a breath and straightened up. As always, he wore his magnificent mink cloak—the plush fawn-colored fur gleamed in the light of the braziers illuminating his tent. “I’d wager he is not yet ready to launch a full-scale attack on the north … hence why he sent Elias to kill Ninia in the meantime.” The king’s mouth compressed into a hard line. “Veldoras is his prize … he’ll not yield easily.”
“Of course, there is another way into the city,” Mira reminded them all. She met the king’s eye across the table. “There’s the tunnel that leads from the Marsh Hills under The Swallow Keep.”
Nathan’s brow furrowed. “Ninia told me how you escaped last year,” he replied, “but with all those iron gates to open and the narrowness of the tunnel, I would only use it as a last resort.” His frown deepened. “We need to face Anthor, army to army. I’ll not take the back door in.”
Listening to these words, a blend of excitement and trepidation prickled Ninia’s skin. It was getting ‘real’ now. The attack on the leaguefort had gone well—better than she’d expected. Even so, seeing the leaguefort go up like a torch had been a shock. Before beginning her training, Ninia’s power had been raw, uncontained. To be able to harness it, if not always faultlessly, both thrilled and unnerved her.
Unleashing the Light like that had been intoxicating. She could see how such power could be misused.
A shiver rippled down Ninia’s spine at the thought. Straightening in her chair, she shrugged it off. I’m not Valgarth, she reminded herself. And I never will be.
Her thoughts turned then to their destination, to Veldoras. The leaguefort was just a taste of what was to come, of what would be expected of her.
“And what of the attack itself?” she asked finally. “Do we have a plan?”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Aye, princess. I always have a plan.” He stepped closer to the table and placed a row of grey markers outside the gates of Veldoras. “At our current pace, we will reach the city in just under two days. Once we do, I will keep the parley brief.”
“Aye, sire,” Captain Jonas agreed with a nod. “Reoul won’t surrender.”
“The exchange will be a formality only,” the king confirmed. “Even if we arrive late in the day, I won’t delay the attack.” He shifted his attention to Asher. “Have you chosen a new Head of the Dark?”
Asher nodded. “Erina is younger than ideal, but strong. I believe she’ll lead the enchanters of the Dark well.”
“Very good.” Nathan dropped his gaze to the row of counters once more. “Your enchanters will form our front line. Then, as soon as the gates are breached, I’ll send my cavalry in. I don’t want to give Reoul time to rally. If he has a host of powerful enchanters at his disposal, we need to hit them hard from the first.”
Ninia walked out of the tent and glanced up at the overcast sky. It had been a humid day, and now storm clouds rolled in from the south-west. The air felt charged. Ninia’s mouth curved, and she flexed her hands at her sides. Both the Stars of Darkness and Light on her palms prickled. After the council of war, she felt restless and on edge. More than one type of storm was approaching.
Asher and Mira walked away toward the nearby enchanters’ tents, while Captain Jonas and his lieutenants wandered off to get some supper.
Ninia wasn’t hungry.
She trailed Asher and Mira for a few yards. They paid her no attention, for they talked quietly together, heads bowed close. Slowing her pace, Ninia veered right, heading toward the perimeter of the camp. The High Enchanter and his lover didn’t see her go.
Ninia made her way through a sea of stained hide tents.
She needed some time alone. She’d grown up spending a lot of time on her own, and as such was comfortable with solitude. It was wearing to be constantly in the midst of a crowd. Apart from at night, when she crawled into her tiny one-person tent, she never had time alone with her thoughts.
The council had gone well, although the big unanswered question was Gael and his host of enchanters. They were an unknown quantity. Ninia knew about Stynix and its dangers to one’s health, but she also knew that it could make an enchanter fearsomely powerful. Perhaps she could take on one or two of these enchanters—but a whole legion?
Ninia clenched her fists by her sides and quickened her pace.
Everyone was relying on her. If the siege went ill, it would be her fault. She didn’t want to let the people of Thûn—or the Rithmar army—down.
Ninia slipped past the perimeter, where a line of pitch torches now burned. Thunder rumbled once more, closer now. The air had a rich smell, not unlike when Ninia gathered the Light. She allowed herself a wry smile as she remembered her experiments, back when she’d lived in The Swallow Keep. She’d tried to keep them hidden, especially from her bodyguard, Mira. But on one occasion she’d set fire to the curtains in her room. The entire chamber had smelled like a thunderstorm afterward.
“Miss!” One of the guards called out to her as she strode away, toward the copse of beech trees that lined the highway. “Don’t wander far, night is almost upon us.”
“I’ll be back shortly,” Ninia called back, injecting an imperious note into her voice. “Worry not.”
Entering the stand of trees, she let out a slow, relieved breath. The woodland had a calm, soothing presence. Breathing in the rich smell of soil and vegetation, Ninia felt her tension melt away. A few yards in, she lowered herself onto a fallen log and closed her eyes.
Veldoras lay close now. The last time she’d been there her family had all been alive. Now it was an occupied city—one that needed to be liberated.
She’d tried to resist it, but the truth was that she couldn’t abandon her people.
With each passing furlong that they inched south, she found her thoughts returning to The City of Tides. She remembered the view from her tower window over the peaked roofs of the city, the way sunlight glittered off the mud of the Brinewater Canal at low-tide, and the chime of morning bells, calling locals to market.
She had to go home.
Ninia sat there for a while, her thoughts churning. Thunder rumbled again, this time overhead, and rain started to patter down. She opened her eyes and glanced up. The light had almost completely faded now. It was time to return to camp.
She’d lingered deliberately, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dusk Imps like she had days earlier. Ever since then, she’d been on the alert for other creatures. But she’d seen none. She hadn’t said anything to Asher about the incident in the end, deciding to keep it to herself.
But as she rose to her feet, she caught the whiff of a familiar smell.
The tang of hot iron wafted through the trees. It was the odor of a smith’s forge.
Ninia remembered the first time she’d ever smelled that odor. She and Mira had fled Veldoras and were trying to make it to the village of Deeping. On the forest road, they’d encountered this smell. Shortly after, a horde of shadow creatures had chased them.
Ninia tensed. It seemed that she’d gotten her wish.
Shadow creatures must be nearby, but she couldn’t see or hear them.
Eyes straining in the gloaming, she peered into the shadows—and then she saw mist snaking across the ground toward her. It was fine and milky, and moved as if pushed by a brisk wind. The mist reached her, curling around her ankles.
Ninia’s pulse started to race. Instinct told her to back away, turn, and flee back to camp. An
d yet she stood her ground, waiting.
The Hiriel appeared shortly after. There were three of them. Tall and ethereal, with tattered white cloaks that floated around them as if they were suspended in water, the shadow creatures drifted toward her. Ninia studied them, taking in the antlers that perched upon their heads; their milky, featureless faces; and pin-prick eyes that burned like twin stars.
Her throat constricted, and her spine tingled. She couldn’t let them see her fear though. She had to stay strong.
They knelt before you once, Ninia reminded herself. Face them down.
But then all three Hiriel stretched out long, spidery arms, reaching toward her.
28
Paths Diverge
RYANA SPIED VELDORAS from afar. From this distance, it appeared little more than a hump on the western horizon, but as they drew nearer, she made out the spires of The Swallow Keep perched high above a city of peaked slate roofs. A high granite wall encircled it all.
Wrinkling her nose, Ryana shifted her gaze to one of the stagnant pools beside the road, from where a rotten smell drifted up. “Shadows,” she muttered to herself. “Who builds a city on a swamp?”
“Reclaimed swamp,” Elias corrected, overhearing her. “Closer to the city, they’ve managed to turn the marshes arable.”
Ryana pulled a face but didn’t reply. However, sure enough, a few furlongs out from The City of Tides, a patchwork of fields appeared. Locals had raised up the land using earth and planks of wood. Small wooden, thatch-roofed huts lined the fields, and a riot of summer vegetables basked in the humid afternoon light. But there was no one tending them. No smoke rose from the roofs of the huts.
Frowning, Ryana glanced over at Elias. “Where are all the farmers?”
Elias’s own brow furrowed as he surveyed the empty plots and deserted houses. “I don’t know,” he replied. “These fields were busy when I left here.”
Up ahead, loomed massive studded iron gates. They were new: the iron gleamed, and there wasn’t a trace of rust on them. A row of unwelcoming spikes faced out around five feet above the ground. Up on the walls Ryana spied the outlines of men moving around, silhouetted against an overcast sky.
“Why are the gates closed?” she asked as they approached.
“I told you, my father has the city locked down,” Elias replied. Yet when she looked his way, she saw he was scowling.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”
They reached the guard house and stopped before a line of helmeted Anthor soldiers, clad in gleaming obsidian armor and scarlet cloaks.
Leaving Ryana waiting with their escort, Elias urged his stallion forward to meet them.
One of the guards stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
Elias nodded a greeting. “My father is still in residence, I take it?”
“Aye, Your Highness.” The guard’s expression was hidden under his helm, although his voice was wary.
“Something is amiss here,” Elias replied. “Why are the fields all empty?”
A beat of silence followed, before the guard answered. “We’re preparing for the siege, Your Highness.”
Ryana tensed. The siege?
Elias inclined his head. “There’s an army approaching?”
“Aye. The Rithmar force is no more than a day behind you.” The guard paused here. “You didn’t know?”
Ryana saw Elias’s broad shoulders tense. “Let us through,” he ordered. “I need to see my father urgently.”
The guard nodded, and the line of soldiers gave way. Moments later the creak and clank of heavy iron rent the damp marsh air. They were opening the gates.
Urging her own horse forward, Ryana drew up alongside Elias as he rode into the city. Nerves fluttered up under her ribcage. Finally, after days of travel, they were here.
Somewhere in this huge city was Gael.
The fluttering sensation morphed, and suddenly Ryana felt as if a great hand was squeezing her chest. He was the last person she wanted to see, and yet she knew she had to face him.
They entered a vast cobbled square, ringed in stone houses. On the eastern edge of Veldoras’s Great Square rose the city’s Altar of Umbra. Ryana imagined that this space was usually filled with market stalls, but this afternoon it was deserted. When she looked up on the walls, she saw they were crawling with men.
A sense of foreboding rose within Ryana, causing her breathing to quicken. For a moment she forgot Gael, her thoughts going to the friends she’d left behind. Asher, Mira, Dain, Lilia, and Ninia—they were just a day behind her.
When they reached the midst of the square, Elias reined in his horse close to Ryana’s. Behind them, their escort halted. The men’s gazes were curious as they glanced around them. A moment later the great iron gates clanged shut, sealing all of them inside Veldoras.
Elias leaned in close, his gaze meeting Ryana’s. When he spoke, his voice was low. “This complicates things.”
Ryana frowned, hoping that he couldn’t see how on edge she was. “I didn’t think Nathan would move this fast.”
“He would if angry enough.”
Ryana drew in a steadying breath. “So what now?”
“We stick to our plan.” He glanced around to make sure their escort couldn’t overhear them. “I go to my father, while you seek out Gael.”
“I still don’t see how you’ll convince your father to make peace … especially now.”
Elias’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “This situation makes it even more important I talk to him. I’ll do what I can to avoid war with Rithmar.”
Ryana stared at him, shock filtering through her. His response unbalanced her. Did he really mean what he’d said about wanting peace?
“Reoul will know you’ve failed him,” she said finally. “He won’t be happy with you, or in the mood to listen.”
Elias huffed. “Let me worry about that.” His gaze narrowed as he met Ryana’s eye once more. “Be careful with Gael. You have the element of surprise, don’t waste it. Make sure you strike fast … before he knows you’re there.”
“Aye,” Ryana replied, forcing a smile. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. “I’ll try.” She hadn’t forgotten the last time she’d fought Gael. He’d bested and nearly killed her. She couldn’t beat him in a fair fight, and now he would have the added advantage of Stynix.
Watching her intently, Elias frowned. “What is it?”
“Some enchanters can sense the presence of other enchanters,” she admitted with a grimace. “Gael knows my scent. He’ll be difficult to sneak up on.”
Elias’s brows drew together, and a nerve bunched in his jaw. “Maybe I should go with you.”
Ryana stiffened. Was that jealousy she’d just seen shadow his eyes? Surely not. She raised her chin, holding his gaze. “No … this is where our paths diverge, Elias of Anthor.”
Silence fell between them, and for a long moment they merely stared at each other.
When Elias spoke once more, his voice held a gruff edge. “Once you kill Gael, you need to get out of the city before Rithmar arrives.”
“How can I do that with the gates locked?”
“They’ll have watches outside the walls all through the night,” he replied. “Shifts of guards will come and go. Just shroud yourself in shadows and wait. Your chance will come soon enough.”
Ryana nodded slowly. “As easy as that?”
His mouth quirked. “Aye … get out of this city, before Nathan and his army arrives.”
Ryana watched him, trying to read his face and failing.
Elias was such an enigma. His manner now reminded her of the brief time they’d spent together in The Royal City. Like then, he’d just given her a glimpse of the man beneath the mask.
She really wished he hadn’t.
I loathe him.
Aye, she did, but then why was it so hard to bid him farewell? The sentiment suddenly lacked
force, as if she was merely trying to convince herself.
“So this is the end then,” he said softly. “Goodbye, Ryana.” He leaned in then and kissed her cheek. The rasp of his stubble against her smooth skin and his warm, musky male scent, overwhelmed her.
Ryana drew back from him, her pulse quickening. This was the last thing she needed. His touch jumbled her thoughts. She gathered the reins, tearing her gaze from his. “Which way to the House of Light and Darkness?”
“Take The Spiral Way, and when you pass the second bridge, turn left into the slums,” he instructed. “The House is at the heart of them. You’ll recognize it by the stag’s head on the door.” He paused there. “I’ll let you go on ahead.”
Ryana nodded, reined her horse to the left, and cast one last look over her shoulder at Elias. She’d been looking forward to parting ways with this man, but now the time had come, she was filled with regret. There were too many things left unspoken, and now they’d run out of time.
But some things were best left unsaid, especially to a man who now belonged to the enemy camp. A peace-maker or not, Elias was still Reoul of Anthor’s son.
“Good fortune with your father,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice she didn’t feel.
He smiled back, although his dark gaze remained somber, and raised a hand in farewell.
Throat constricting, Ryana urged her horse into a brisk canter and rode out of the square.
Elias watched Ryana go, his gaze tracking her until she disappeared from sight onto The Spiral Way. He’d let her have a few moments to get a head start before he moved off.
Seeing her depart had left him feeling empty.
Despite that she’d been angry with him, despite that they’d sparred and argued all the way south, he’d had her company. And he’d enjoyed every moment, knowing it could never last.
He didn’t like the thought of her going after Gael alone. When she’d told him her ex-lover could scent her, jealousy had ripped through him. Many years had passed since Ryana and Gael had been together, yet it was a reminder of the connection they’d once shared. Misgiving needled him now. If Gael was as dangerous as Ryana said, she shouldn’t be facing him alone.
