by Tara Grayce
Farrendel refused to let that shake him, even though it sent a punch to his gut. Last time he had been captured, he had been held in a cave in the camp of the troll army not far from the border. Even though it had cost his father his life, that raid was a simple matter compared to a rescue from Gror Grar.
He would not be rescued until the war was over. He had known rescue would take time, but marching across Kostaria and taking Gror Grar could take weeks. Maybe months, if the trolls fought Weylind to a stalemate.
His breathing caught, his chest constricting.
No, he refused to give in to the panic. Weylind would not be fighting alone. He would have Averett, Julien, and Edmund and, if Essie’s determination could be believed, the might of the Escarlish army. Rescue would come.
He must not have been as successful at hiding his thoughts as he had hoped. Prince Rharreth held the last bite of bread out to him. “Don’t hope for rescue. This fortress has stood for a thousand years and never been breached.”
Farrendel took the bite and chewed. No, this fortress had never been breached. But the trolls had never faced humans armed with the weapons Escarland now had in their possession. The humans were known for building fortresses, only to have another army come in and bombard that fortress to rubble.
Essie’s brothers would figure out a way inside, if anyone could.
Besides, what Prince Rharreth said was only partially true. This fortress had never been breached by an army. But Farrendel, by himself, had slipped inside and killed the late troll king.
The defenses had probably been strengthened since then. But it proved that a small group could slip inside, if that was the route Weylind and Essie’s brothers decided to go.
Yet, getting in was one thing. Leaving after rescuing Farrendel would be a different matter.
Farrendel swallowed the bite. Now that he had eaten, his stomach grumbled, hungry for more. He ignored it. That was all the troll was likely to give him for the day.
How should he respond to Prince Rharreth? Had the trolls realized yet that Escarland and Tarenhiel would ally to fight Kostaria?
Nothing had been official before Farrendel’s capture, and neither the Escarlish traitors nor the elven traitors would have known to report a deepening alliance. If anything, the elven traitors’ hatred for humans and the human traitors’ hatred for elves would have made them believe Escarland and Tarenhiel would never become allies, and that was what they would have reported to the trolls.
But Essie had promised that she would make sure their brothers worked together to free him. That promise was enough for Farrendel. Escarland and Tarenhiel would fight alongside each other in this war. He was betting his life on it.
Probably best just to change the subject. He had no wish to give away something the trolls did not already know. The point of talking was to gain information, not give it.
“Where is...” Farrendel had to swallow the last of the gritty bread from his mouth. “Where is my sister?”
Did he want to know the answer to this question? The last time he had seen Melantha, she had a knife to her face as Prince Rharreth threatened her. Had she ever been in danger? Or had that just been for show to recapture Farrendel? His mind had still been so hazy and drugged, he was not sure how much had been real and what had been pretense.
How much was she still cooperating with the trolls? She might hate Farrendel, but surely she would not aid the trolls against Weylind, her full brother, not a half-brother born illegitimately. She had betrayed Farrendel because she believed the trolls’ promises of peace for Tarenhiel and because she wanted her family to return to the way it had been. Neither of those things would happen now.
Prince Rharreth eyed Farrendel, his square jaw hard. “You ask after her? After what she did?”
“She is still my sister.” Farrendel’s chest tightened at Prince Rharreth’s evasive answer. “What have you done to her? Is she all right?”
Was she a guest of honor in an opulent suite, plotting with the trolls on how best to torture Farrendel? Or was she the person Prince Rharreth had locked up before coming to Farrendel’s cell? What if she was also pinned with stone and suffering?
“If you hurt her...” Farrendel strained against the rock binding him to the floor. What he would not give for even a crackle of his magic.
“You will do what? Assassinate me as you murdered my father?” Prince Rharreth’s mouth curled, his face as hard as the stones around them. With his pale gray skin, he looked like he could fade away into the stones of the wall behind him. “You are in no position to make threats.”
Farrendel forced himself to lie still. He should not display this much care for her. It would hand the trolls another weapon to use against him. “It seems you are just like your father. He enjoyed torturing helpless victims as well.”
Prince Rharreth’s eyes flared, and his jaw worked. Gathering the bowl, he stood and brushed off the knees of his trousers, his leather tunic creaking. At the door, he paused and glared over his shoulder at Farrendel. “Enjoy today, elfling. My brother will extract from you the blood of all of our people you have killed soon enough.”
Farrendel gritted his teeth, even as the crust of bread and watery broth he had eaten churned in his stomach. Weeks of torture. That was what he was facing.
But not today. The trolls probably intended for him to stew in the darkness and stone and pain to weaken him before they started the torture.
Without another word, Prince Rharreth strode from the cell, and the door slammed shut behind him. His bootsteps marched down the corridor before another door creaked open and shut in the distance.
Quiet descended on the passageway for several long heartbeats. Then, Melantha’s voice echoed through the darkness. “Farrendel? Are you there?”
That was Melantha in the other cell. She did not sound like she was in pain.
Should he answer her? What if the trolls had put her down there so that she could attempt to regain his trust? Maybe they thought he would spill Tarenhieli military secrets and planning to his sister.
“Are you all right? Farrendel?” Melantha’s voice rose, as if strained with worry.
Was she pretending? Or was that concern real?
No, he could not allow himself to be taken in. Better to believe she still hated him than to fall for her trick again.
Still, it might be worth playing along. Maybe she and the trolls would tip their hand and give Farrendel information or something else he could use.
Besides, it was either lie here unmoving, slowly going insane by himself, or he could converse with Melantha.
“I am fine. They have not hurt me yet, besides the restraints.” Farrendel closed his eyes. Somehow, the darkness was better if it was of his own making. If only he could pretend away the headache and the piercing stone as easily.
“I am sorry.”
Sure she was. She was probably just sorry that her treachery had been revealed and she had been forced to come here with the trolls instead of returning to her home in Tarenhiel.
Perhaps he did not want to talk to Melantha after all. He would rather go back to trying to talk to Essie through the elishina and clinging to the hope she gave him.
As the minutes dragged on and he did not respond, Melantha did not try to talk to him again.
He did not need her to keep his sanity and cling to hope. Even if his entire family were to turn on him, he still had Essie and her family. He would have a home in Aldon no matter what. Thanks to Essie, he had plenty of reasons to hope.
Besides, the trolls had made several glaring tactical errors. They had intended to spark a two-front war, a war the elves could not have won with both Escarland and Kostaria armed with Escarlish weapons. It would have been the end of Tarenhiel.
Instead, thanks to all the trolls’ machinations, Escarland and Tarenhiel would fight this war united against Kostaria. On their own, the elves of Tarenhiel had never been strong enough to take the fight to the trolls and defeat them once and for all. But w
ith the might of the Escarlish weaponry and numbers on their side, this war could finally be over. No more fighting. No more killing. Freedom to finally dream of a future with Essie.
Not only had the trolls started a war, but they had started a war they could not win.
That made Farrendel’s capture the trolls’ biggest mistake. His capture would incite and unite all four of his brothers in a way nothing less could have. They would not rest until they had marched their armies all the way to Gror Grar, rescued Farrendel, and utterly defeated the trolls.
He just had to live long enough to be rescued.
ESSIE SWIPED at her face, pushed herself upright, and released her tight mental grip on the heart bond. As much as she wanted to stay curled in bed all day clinging to the connection she had with Farrendel through the heart bond, that wouldn’t accomplish anything toward the goal of getting him back.
After taking a long, hot shower, she considered the shelves holding the few clothes she and Farrendel had left behind when they had visited Escarland. She dressed in her own trousers, but she put on the light green tunic of Farrendel’s she’d borrowed when she’d first traveled to Estyra. It still smelled like him, like a forest with the minty hint of his shampoo.
There were probably going to be official meetings that afternoon and evening, but she didn’t care. It helped to keep something of Farrendel’s close, even if her eyes burned with more tears and a lump ached at the back of her throat.
But she had cried enough tears that day. If Farrendel could stay strong and determined while captured, she could do so here in the safety of Ellonahshinel. Besides, she did not want to burden him with her sadness when he was the one facing torture.
After checking that the puffiness had faded from her eyes and the redness from her cheeks, she made her way down the stairs and entered the main room.
There, Edmund and Julien were sitting on some of the cushions, papers and maps spread between them on the floor. Both of them looked up as she entered.
“Did you have a good nap?” Julien’s mouth tipped into an attempt at a smile. It faded quickly.
“Yes.” She had slept. That was the main thing. She navigated through the mess spread across the floor. “Though I spent more of that time trying to communicate with Farrendel through the heart bond. He’s awake, and more aware than he’s been for nearly two days. I think they were keeping him drugged or something earlier.”
“How is he doing?” Edmund set aside the paper he had been reading.
“Better than I expected. He seems determined to fight through this.” Essie sank onto the one cushion not being used by either her brothers or their papers.
Julien rested an elbow on his knee as he leaned forward to better meet her gaze. “He’s a fighter, Essie. He’ll do what it takes to get back to you. Just keep letting him know that we’re coming.”
“I already did.” She had to swallow back that pesky lump in her throat. She was strong, and she had no choice but to carry on. It was what Farrendel would want her to do. She forced a lighter tone into her voice as she peered at the explosion of paper. “Planning?”
“King Weylind was good enough to send a servant with some maps and intelligence reports for us to look over. We’re due for a meeting in less than an hour.” Edmund scribbled something on a paper after consulting a second paper, written in elvish. “Glad you woke up in time. We weren’t sure if we should wake you or let you sleep.”
“Wake me, if it comes up again.” Essie wasn’t sure what she would add to the discussions besides act as peacemaker, but she didn’t want to miss a single one. Not when Farrendel’s life depended on the outcome.
Julien glanced at his pocket watch. “How long do you think it will take us to reach the meeting room? King Weylind said it was somewhere below the library but above the grand hall. Do you know where that is, Essie?”
“I think so. I can at least get us to the general area.” Essie had never been called into the meeting room or study or whatever Weylind had to run Tarenhiel. Did elves accumulate the same amount of paperwork that human rulers had to tackle?
But she had passed the general area with its bustle of servants and flurry of courtiers and other activity.
After she helped her brothers pick up all their maps and notes and paperwork that they had already managed to produce in the few hours they had been there, she led the way from the treehouse toward the main part of the elven treetop palace.
Her brothers edged across the branch just as cautiously as before. She would have found it humorous, and she even turned to comment on it, her hand reaching to clasp Farrendel’s, before she felt the emptiness beside her.
Farrendel wasn’t there to laugh with her over her brothers’ hesitation. He wasn’t there to make a dry comment about the way she had clung to him on her first time across this branch.
She drew in a breath, willing the pain to stay deep inside her chest. Now was not the time to break. She had promised Farrendel that she would make sure her brothers and his brother worked together to rescue him. She would not let him down.
“This is a rather out of the way set of rooms, isn’t it?” Julien’s shoulders relaxed as he reached the wider branch.
“Farrendel likes his privacy.” Essie refused to feel the stab of pain inside her chest.
“I can see why he took to Buckmore Cottage.” Edmund’s eyes darted about as they walked deeper into the heart of Ellonahshinel. Before the day was out, Edmund would have a mental map of this palace.
When they reached the section of the tree King Weylind had indicated, it was an easy matter to follow the bustle to the room where the elven king ran Tarenhiel’s government.
The room was already filled with King Weylind and a few other elves Essie only vaguely recognized, guessing they were the elf equivalents of generals or military tacticians. More elves lurked by the wall. The scouts, perhaps? Maps were spread out over a long table in the center of the room while a desk with a chair had been grown into the wall. King Weylind’s desk, presumably.
“I see the meeting started without us.” Edmund grinned and sauntered inside. He set his bundle of papers on the end of the table.
King Weylind glanced up from his hushed consultation and gave both of her brothers one of his dark, disapproving eyebrow looks.
Her brothers were going to have far too much fun pushing King Weylind’s buttons. This was either going to be very entertaining or very frustrating.
Julien spread his own map on the table. “Let’s get to it, then. I’m Prince Julien, and this is my brother Prince Edmund. I’m going to be helping with the initial logistics of bringing the Escarlish army into Tarenhiel while Edmund will be joining your scouts.”
Two of the elves lurking in the shadows glanced at King Weylind while the last one stared at Edmund.
King Weylind heaved a large sigh, for an elf, and tipped his head in a nod. “That is correct.” He gestured toward the three elves in the shadows. “Prince Edmund, these are my top scouts. Your train north leaves tonight.”
Edmund nodded and sidled across the room toward the scouts. He was soon in conversation in elvish with them. Two of them seemed like they were fine scouting with a human in tow, but the third elf all but crossed his arms and glared daggers at Edmund.
Oh, well, Edmund could handle himself.
Essie found a seat next to the table as Julien, King Weylind, and his generals started in on the technical discussion. As Julien didn’t speak elvish, Essie translated when the elves lapsed into elvish. It seemed at least one of the generals was not as comfortable speaking Escarlish as King Weylind and Farrendel were.
Julien pointed at the map. “I was thinking it would be best to have the Escarlish army set up multiple camps along here away from the border. I don’t think we should muster the full force of our armies at the border until we are ready to attack. We might as well not give away that we are allies until the last possible moment. Even if Kostaria learns Tarenhiel and Escarland have become allies, they may assum
e we would never work this closely together.”
One of the generals crossed his arms. “A valid assumption.”
Essie winced. No one knew exactly how it would go once they brought the Escarlish army into Tarenhiel. Fifteen years ago, the Escarlish army had fought long and hard along the Hydalla River only to fail to gain so much as a toehold in Tarenhiel. The Tarenhieli army had fought just as hard to keep them out. It would be strange for everybody, to suddenly be inviting the Escarlish army into Tarenhiel and trying to work together.
“Exactly. By spreading out the army, I believe we can minimize the strain on your infrastructure, though it will mean much of your northern forests will feel the Escarlish presence.” Julien glanced from King Weylind to the elven generals.
King Weylind frowned. “We will not allow your army to roam our forests at will.”
“We don’t expect you to. We’ll muster into orderly camps and our commanders will be expected to maintain strict discipline. There will still be incidents. There always are, even when the Escarlish army is inside Escarland. But the accelerated pace of this war will keep the men from becoming too restless.” Julien drew in a deep breath. “Besides, my brother Averett and I would like to propose that you station divisions of your elven army alongside our divisions to begin the process of intermingling the two armies.”
Essie straightened in her seat. She hadn’t heard this part of the plan yet.
King Weylind stiffened. “Intermingling? So that you can divide our armies and weaken us before an ambush inside our own borders?”
Julien crossed his arms. “We have a treaty. We are not going to ambush our own allies.”
King Weylind met Julien’s gaze. “This plan would give you that opportunity, if you wished it.”
“We do not.” Julien didn’t look away. “And Averett will keep in line those that might.”
“It would be a foolish choice to attempt such an ambush. Your armies would be scattered and weakened as well.” One of the elven generals glanced from King Weylind to Julien. “But I do not know why you wish to attempt such integration. Your armies will be under your command while our armies will be under our command. We will settle on a strategy together, but we will fight under our own kingdoms’ banners.”