Singael thought for a moment. “She is the bloodline, then. It is through her, not your father, that you have inherited this.”
“I truly believe that I spoke with her, but what about the other times? I don’t know whether Adhannor is using her, or simply the image of her.”
“I do not know either.”
“Can he do what I have done, and reach her ghost? She’s dead, but could he harm her somehow?”
“He has controlled spirits, but it was such a brief time—no more than a few days—when he wielded his full power that I truly do not know the extent of what he can and cannot do. But there is one thing that has me worried. I reached a point where I went into that borderline of death willingly, and it took your arrival to summon me out of it. If Adhannor can use your mother to tempt you there and you go willingly, he will feed from you and you will be lost.”
“I cannot try to summon her…?”
Singael shook his head. “I know it is very tempting to do so, but you cannot. The threat from Adhannor is too dangerous. Aside from Adhannor, calling someone back from the dead is something that even we did not explore. Do not attempt it.”
I nodded. It hit me that I had already been planning to summon her again, as soon as I could get away from everyone else. As soon as I felt it was safe to try. I came so close to touching my mother again. How could I possibly give that up?
“I wondered why I had not died,” Singael said. “I wanted to. I have been waiting for it. But now I see why I am still here. It is because you are.””
“Me?”
“I can feel you.” He tapped his temple. “Up here. I think have known of your existence but I did not quite admit it to myself. When all of this is taken care of, I will finally go. Until then, we will find a way to stop Adhannor.”
“How do I stop him?”
“I have an idea, though you may not find it to your liking. You may come in, Dalandaras,” Singael said loudly.
Dalandaras opened the door. “A ship has been sighted,” he said in the common language, Father and Lorandal coming in behind him. “Eliawen will be here soon.”
“Good,” Singael said.
“How are you?” Father asked me.
“He didn’t torture me,” I replied, but Father still watched me. “I’m fine.”
“Is there a plan?” Lorandal asked.
“We have much work to do,” Singael said. “Because Adhannor has help.”
“The man in the dead city?” I asked.
He nodded. “I suspect it was no accident that your looters found Adhannor’s prison.”
“So somebody else knows about the apparition,” Father said.
“And wanted him released,” Lorandal said grimly.
“Why would anyone do it?”
“To gain a share of Adhannor’s power,” Singael said. “It is still possible that he can share what he can do. If he is willing.”
Something had drawn me to the ruins, and had found a way to circumvent the safeguards Dalandaras was so sure would prevent anyone from finding the ruins. Someone else must have been drawn there as well. “It’s another inheritor,” I said. “It has to be.”
“An inheritor?” Lorandal asked. “A myth?”
“Evalandriel is an inheritor,” Singael said firmly. “After all you have seen, Lorandal, you would dismiss a myth so easily?”
“We can debate that later,” Father said. “How would we be able to find whoever the other...inheritor...is?”
“If he is working blood magic,” Singael pushed up his sleeves and revealed his scars. “The strongest blood magic is the magic you work on yourself.”
Lorandal and Father looked shocked at the sight of the scars. Dalandaras seemed less surprised.
“If he was human,” I said. “Then he’s from Winter’s Crown.”
“Have you ever seen anyone scarred like this?” Singael asked. “It could be anywhere on his body.”
“No,” I said.
“There are thousands at the Fort,” Father said. “And thousands of miners that come for temporary jobs. And then there are the merchants, and those whose job it is simply to transport ore down south.”
“He will not be temporary,” Dalandaras said. “This man would have to have to live here.”
“Maybe he has known about the ruins longer than I have,” I said.
“Or maybe you led him to them,” Father said gently.
“I showed no one—”
“I’m not saying you did it intentionally. But it was no secret that you were spending nearly every waking moment outside of the Fort. If they were undisturbed before you arrived, then maybe whoever this is followed you.”
“How is it possible that two inheritors found their way to the same place at the same time?” Lorandal asked.
“They would have found their way here, however long it took,” Singael repeated his words from earlier.
Someone who had been following me. Tunir and Iasul were too shaken from the partial collapse of the ruins and the interrogation that they got from Father. Zarah was here and a woman. Aerik had stuck close to me, true, but he had been too close to do anything without my noticing. Besides, I’d known him since I was born. I knew him. But there had been one man who had stuck close to me ever since I had arrived at Winter’s Crown. “I think I know.”
Father looked at me, and didn’t like whatever he saw. “I trust Crowndan,” he said.
“I don’t,” I replied.
“He has been here for years; surely he didn’t need you in order to find the ruins if he was truly searching for them.”
“Who is he?” Singael asked.
“My father’s aide,” I replied. “He has tried very hard to stay close to me.”
“It could be him,” Singael agreed.
Father shook his head. “He has been too busy to have slipped away without anyone noticing.”
“Have you never sent him to any of the outposts?” I countered. “Have you followed his every movement in the Fort? Have you never sent him off on an errand and not seen him for several hours?”
“I apologize for encouraging him to pursue you,” Father said. “But that is my fault, not his.””
I shrugged. “We will find out.”
“What is it we must do to stop Adhannor?” Dalandaras asked.
“We must go to Tal Anor,” Singael said.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A mountain,” Dalandaras replied. “It is forbidden. What is your word for it? Taboo.”
“We will go,” Singael insisted. “All of us. Because Evalandriel and I have a ceremony to perform together. I must open her to her full powers, and make certain that she accepts them with little ill effect. If Evalandriel’s powers match Adhannor’s, then we will draw Adhannor to Tal Aesiri and kill him.”
Tal Aesiri. I knew the name from somewhere. Not from my life at the Fort, or my life in Port Darad. But an image flashed through my mind, one of ice and snow and a ravine that was so deep there seemed to be no bottom to it. The air was thick with mist and the feel of the oily taint that had been present in the ruins.
I did not want to go there. “Do I have a choice?”
“Yes,” my father said.
“No,” Singael countered. “It is this, or die when Adhannor finds you, and pray that the death is a final one, and that your soul is not trapped by his magic.”
“Tal Aesiri is too dangerous,” Dalandaras said. “It is not just magic; the old beasts still thrive there.”
“Stay behind if you choose,” Singael said with a sting in his voice. “Or kill Evalandriel now and be done with it. But pray that Adhannor has not grown stronger than his bond with her, or her death will have ended the only chance to finish him.”
“What?” Father demanded. “What is this?”
None of the elves answered. But I had some idea.
“You had orders, didn’t you?” I asked. “To take care of the problem, however you needed to do it.”
Dalandaras no
dded again.
“From Singael? Or your Queen?”
“Does it matter?”
It mattered to me. “Why didn’t you?”
“I am not a monster,” Dalandaras replied, but he didn’t meet my eyes.
“It is too late now,” Singael said. “With this man performing blood magic, Adhannor has very likely found another source to sustain him.”
“Then Tal Anor it is,” Dalandaras said.
“Will you be able to travel?” Lorandal asked Singael, somewhat dubiously.
“I will be ready in the morning,” Singael said firmly. “Could you find Alid? I need to do a few things. I suggest everyone rest tonight.”
We left Singael’s room. As we headed back towards the central corridor, I asked: “Is Tal Aesiri so dangerous? More than the danger that Adhannor already presents?”
“It is not a place we tread,” Lorandal replied. “Elves find it repulsive. It is where the beasts of the old gods still have a place in our world. We are foolish to travel there when there are so few of us.”
“It is what we must do,” Dalandaras replied. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Hopefully Eliawen has brought others.”
“I have,” Eliawen replied as she approached us. A cold wind swept down the hallway from the entrance, Rusindal the guard following close behind. “Soldiers, if we need them, and this ship is for our use as well.”
She glanced around the group. Whatever she saw there gave her pause. “Will we need the ship?” she asked cautiously.
Dalandaras nodded. “We go to Tal Anor, and then Tal Aesiri.”
“I see,” she replied. “What has happened?”
“Blood magic,” Dalandaras said grimly. “Bad.”
“I am afraid I have no better news,” she replied. “I must speak with Zarah.”
“Why?” my father asked.
“Did someone say my name?” Zarah asked as she came down the spiral stairs. Aerik followed behind. At least it looked as if both of them had gotten some rest. “What is it?”
“In private, perhaps.”
“Just tell me,” Zarah frowned.
Eliawen hesitated. “I am sorry,” she said kindly. “But your father, Sir Aros, has been murdered.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What?” Zarah asked.
“I am very sorry,” Eliawen repeated.
“Murdered?” my father asked.
Zarah shook her head, her eyes wide. “You’re mistaken.”
“There is no mistake. One of our patrols encountered several messengers from your Fort, who were trying to make their way to Tal Uil, our capital. They were looking for you, Lord Baradan, and Lady Zarah. I spoke to them just as I was preparing to return here.”
“Where are they now?” my father asked.
“At Tal Uil.”
Zarah had paled, and she started to sway. I wrapped an arm around her waist, unsure of exactly what to do. All those people who had offered their condolences when my mother had died—friends, captains, sailors, officials—none had helped anything. “Let’s go sit down,” I said instead.
But Zarah took a breath and brushed my arm away. “No,” she replied. “What else is there?” She demanded. “There’s more. What is it?”
“Was it the apparition’s creature?” Father asked.
“No,” Eliawen replied. “Sir Aros never made it to the battle. He was found in his rooms with a knife in his heart.”
Zarah collapsed against me. Father and I caught her arms, and we held her upright as she gathered her strength. She was dazed, her eyes blinking slowly, her breathing shallow.
“I am very sorry,” Eliawen said again.
“We should go sit down,” I repeated.
Zarah shook off the daze she was under. “No,” she swallowed hard. “I need…I need a moment. I need to be alone. Please.”
She turned back towards the stairs. Father and I were careful as we let her go. She put out her arm and leaned against the stone walls as she went, but she didn’t collapse again. Her footsteps were heavy and her boots scraped against the stairs, but she made it up the stairs. She needed to be alone to cry it out, if she even truly comprehended that her father was dead.
Father, Aerik, and I looked at each other.
“How is that possible?” Aerik asked.
Singael’s other inheritor. The same one who had guided the looters to the exact location of Adhannor’s prison.
“I was also informed that your aide Crowndan went missing in the midst of the battle,” Eliawen added.
I met my father’s eyes, but resisted saying “I told you so.”
“They are not certain what happened to him, but they think that he is dead.”
“Evidence?” my father asked.
“A bloodstained cloak outside of the Fort.”
“But no body,” I said.
“None,” Eliawen replied.
“Then he’s run off.”
“Come now, Eva,” Aerik said. “I know you don’t like the man. He’s pompous, to be sure. I’d like to get him on a ship for a year and let the rough ropes and stormy seas make a true man of him. But I don’t think he’s just run off.”
“That’s not what Eva was thinking,” my father said.
“Are you thinking that he’s the man you chased out of the city?” Aerik asked.
“He fits. Why would he be missing otherwise?”
“Maybe the apparition took him,” my father said.
“Why would Adhannor kidnap him? If Adhannor needed strength, he would drain him then and there. If Crowndan is another inheritor, then Adhannor needs him alive.”
“I see things have advanced significantly since I have been gone,” Eliawen said.
“Quite a bit,” Dalandaras replied. “Who has come with you?”
“Firien and his crew,” Eliawen replied. “They are securing the boat; they should be coming soon.”
“We will inform everyone of what we now know as soon as they arrive. We should not leave any later than tomorrow afternoon.”
But what should we do with Zarah? “Give me a moment,” I said. I headed up the stairs to our room. The door was closed, and I didn’t hear any movement behind it.
I knocked quietly. “Zarah?”
I waited for a shouted “go away!” or for the thud of something thrown against the door, but there was nothing. If I didn’t have to worry about the apparition, if there wasn’t a need for haste, I would have left her alone. But I pushed open the door. “Zarah?”
She was sitting on her bed, her head bowed, her arms resting limp on her legs. I closed the door until there was only a sliver of light coming through. The remaining daylight was weak, and we were left in shadow. She didn’t look at me. There was no hint that she even realized I was there.
But what could I say now that I couldn’t say downstairs? I could ask if she was all right, but of course she wasn’t. I could always try honesty. “Nothing’’s going to help,” I said at last. “But crying might tire you out enough that you’ll get some sleep. It’s not much, but I don’t think you’re the type to want to sit here in a daze.”
She looked up then. When her eyes met mine, her face crumpled.
I sat next to her and wrapped my arms around her. “Just let it out,” I said.
She did, in great heaving sobs. She curled into me; I rocked her back and forth while she let it all out. I brushed her hair from her face and wiped away the tears as they came. Whenever the tears finally seemed spent, a fresh wave came on. The remains of daylight faded entirely, and I could see the smattering of stars and the dancing green aurora through the window.
After what must have been close to an hour, the sobs stopped entirely. She sagged in sleep. I lowered her back onto the bed, slinging her legs up until she looked comfortable.
“Eva,” my father whispered from the doorway.
I stripped off Zarah’s boots and pulled the blanket over her.
“How is she?”
I closed the door behind me as quiet
ly as I could. “How do you think?” I asked wearily. “Have you met the new elves?”
“Yes,” father replied. “They are…something. Don’t head down,” he said as I reached the stairs. “We’ve gathered upstairs.”
I headed up. We passed two more landings before the ascent steepened. Whatever benefit I had from being an inheritor didn’t stop my calves from burning. I wondered if these stairs lead up into one of the towers. But we came to a third landing, which opened up into a wide room. It was like a smaller, cozier great hall; the ceiling was low but arched, and the stone was carved with intricate details that I couldn’t quite make out in the flickering firelight. The far wall was open to the night air, and the wall on the right held a series of doors. In the center of the room was an open hearth; the flames burned low, and cast the corners of the room in deep shadows. It was spacious, free of dust and cobwebs. For whatever reason the new elves were more worthy of these rooms than Prince Dalandaras and his companions.
Apparently Alid didn’t think we were the type of guests to normally deserve such treatment.
There was quite a gathering; Dalandaras, Eliawen, Lorandal, and Aerik, and six other elves I didn’t recognize. They were not made from the same mold as Rusindal, who seemed far to innocent to be doing a job that required him to draw a weapon. They were of Dalandaras’ type – their skin was pale and translucent, their hair white, their faces bearing a hardness that told of past wars.
One of the elves, who had been sitting on a bench next to Eliawen, stood up. He had once seen a fierce battle. Three thick, shiny scars ran from his hairline parallel to each other, across his forehead and down the left side of his face, just barely missing his eye, and down his neck, disappearing under his coat. On his face the scars were raised and pale, but down his neck his skin was deeply gouged and twisted. The skin around his scars was swollen and red, as if the wound was still infected. I could see the faint outline of some design in skin, as I could see in Dalanadaras’, which came and went with the flickering of the hearth.
They all had those designs, and their own scars. One woman had a great slashing scar on her neck, and when another man turned his head he had been slashed by something that had grooved his cheek and cut through his ear. They all wore fur-lined leather coats and sturdy boots; their clothes, even down to their gloves, had been dyed white like Dalandaras’.
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