by Tara Grayce
It would make more sense for Prince Rharreth to lead the army. But Farrendel could not help but hope that Prince Rharreth lost the argument. Not only would it spare him a few days of torture, but with Prince Rharreth here, King Charvod would be the easier of the two for Weylind and Essie’s brothers to fight.
Melantha touched his arm, and Farrendel flinched, his mind conjuring memories of King Charvod’s hand and icy magic tearing through his chest. He hissed a sharp breath and tried to force his heartbeat to slow.
“I am sorry.” Melantha withdrew her hand and hugged her knees to her chest. At that moment, she looked small and scared. Nothing like the strong, aloof sister he knew. A shiver shook her fingers before she buried them in her skirt.
She had given up her blanket and poured her magic into him to keep him warm.
He was going to trust her. It might be a mistake. But he had to risk it.
“Melantha?” Farrendel flexed his fingers, his heart beating harder. Was he really going to do this? If she turned him in, it would take away the last shred of control he had over his situation. “Can I trust you?”
“Yes.” She said it quickly. Too quickly? He could not tell. But she met his gaze unwaveringly. “What I did was wrong. So very wrong. I will not betray you or Tarenhiel again. Right now, I just want to do whatever I can to get you out of here.”
It was what he wanted to hear. Did she know that? Was that why she said it?
Was he about to be tricked again?
Then again, what did he have to lose? If she tricked him, he would die. But if he did not trust her, he was just as likely to die.
“I hope you are telling the truth.” Farrendel drew in a deep breath. This was it. “I have a plan, and I will need your help. But I am not sure I should trust you with this.”
“I can see why you would hesitate.” Melantha hugged her knees tighter, her black hair scraggling down her back and over her shoulders. “I have had a lot of time to think, lately. I have realized how disappointed—no, more than disappointed—Father would be with me. Mother, too. She would have liked you.”
“I would not exist if she had lived.” Their father never would have betrayed her. He had loved her too deeply. Farrendel bit back the ache in his chest. It had been too easy as a boy to imagine that the kind, loving person that everyone talked about would have extended that love to him, despite how he had been born.
Much like how Essie’s mother had taken him into the family, even though he had ended up married to her daughter because of a treaty. The memory eased the pain. Whatever the pain that still lingered in his own family, Essie’s family had shown him healing was possible. Perhaps his family would find a way toward the happiness her family had built after the death of her father.
Assuming he and Melantha survived this.
Melantha reached, as if to rest a hand on his shoulder, but drew her hand back. “I still miss my mother, dreadfully. But, being here has reminded me of how much I am thankful you exist. You are my...” She hesitated. “You are family.”
It stung, that she still would not claim him as her brother. But a part of him trusted her more because of it. It would have been suspicious if she had been too quick to assert he was her brother after what she had said while betraying him.
The last bit of tension faded from his muscles. Perhaps he was making a mistake. But this was his choice, and maybe, if he chose wrong, he would die before learning the truth. He would rather die believing his sister actually loved him. “Did you hear their plans for me? And Weylind?”
Melantha grimaced. “Yes. Hard not to when King Charvod was shouting.”
“I cannot allow King Charvod to go through with his plans. Not only do I not want to die pinned to the wall of Gror Grar...”
Melantha’s grimace twisted her face even more. “Understandable. I think King Charvod is going crazier the longer he has you in his clutches.”
Something Farrendel had seen in the late troll king as well. “But I especially do not want Weylind to be killed trying to rescue me like Father was. Nor do I wish to put any of Essie’s family in danger. Whether King Charvod parades me out during the attack or if Weylind sends a small party into this dungeon to attempt a rescue, it will be a trap. Anyone trying to rescue me will be killed.”
“And you have a plan to prevent that? How can I help?” Melantha leaned forward, her hands fisted in her skirt.
Did she sound too eager? As if she had been playing up until this moment to get him to spill his secret?
No, he had chosen to trust her. He was not going to doubt himself now. Of course she was eager. She was also stuck in this dungeon, and, even though she had resented Farrendel, she loved Weylind as a brother. A brother with whom she shared a father and a mother. She would not wish to see Weylind killed.
“I do not plan to be here when King Charvod comes to kill me.” Farrendel drew on his magic and let a few bolts twine around his fingers.
Melantha gasped and flung back the blanket covering his hand nearest her. She gaped at his fingers. “You can use your magic.”
“Thanks to your healing magic. When you coat the stone and troll magic with yours, it stops their effect on me, and I am able to access my magic.” Farrendel drew his magic back into his chest, easing it into the heart bond. That was something he was going to keep to himself. He might have decided to trust Melantha, but it would be best if she did not know everything. “I believe I can break the stone pinning me and free myself.”
“Really?” Melantha stopped hugging her knees and sat forward, her eyes wide. “Then what are we waiting for? Break the stone, and we can get out of here while the trolls are distracted.”
It soothed his suspicions that she was so eager. Perhaps it helped prove that she was just as much a prisoner as he was. Her cheeks were sunken, her cheekbones sharp. Her dress hung on her frame, her fingers knobby. If she was helping the trolls, then she was being forced in some way. Surely no one would go to such lengths as to starve herself and be locked up in the dungeon with him if she was here out of her own free will.
Farrendel shook his head. “We cannot leave now. You and I are both weak, and we have no supplies. Doubtless, the trolls have blanketed Kostaria in ice and snow to slow down Escarland’s and Tarenhiel’s armies. Without supplies, we would not get far. Even if we could, we have the entire troll army standing between us and safety.”
“Oh. Right.” Melantha sighed and slumped. “So what is the plan?”
This felt all too similar to the conversation he had with Essie on the train. The plan was essentially the same. Waiting for the last moment, believing that to be the right time, instead of acting right away.
Perhaps he and Essie should have attempted the leap from the train. They might have survived without too much damage, and he would not have ended up here, locked in the trolls’ dungeon.
But Essie would not have learned about Melantha or Thanfardil. How much worse would the war have been had Thanfardil remained in charge of all of Tarenhiel’s train system? He could have alerted the trolls to every movement of troops and supplies. He could have sabotaged Escarland’s army as they tried to transport all their weapons across Tarenhiel.
And, without this, Melantha would have gone on hating Farrendel. She might not have continued to aid the trolls, but she probably would have given them enough information to kill Farrendel on the battlefield. He might have ended up here anyway.
It had been the right decision to wait there on the train. Waiting was the necessary choice now.
“We have to wait until Escarland’s and Tarenhiel’s army attacks Gror Grar.” Farrendel stared at the ceiling, steeling himself. It sounded so appealing to break the stone now, end this pain, and take his chances in the rocky, icy wilds of Kostaria.
“You wish to wait until then? Is that not risky? That is when King Charvod plans to drag you out onto the wall. Or possibly kill you here. Or otherwise use you as a trap for Weylind.” Melantha went back to hugging her knees.
“I
know.” Farrendel flexed his fingers, telling himself he needed to bide his time. He would only get one chance to escape. “With your magic, I might be able to access enough of my magic to help from the inside. It will be difficult for Weylind to take Gror Grar, unless someone were to blow the gates out from the inside. Or maybe part of the wall.”
Melantha huffed and shook her head. “I never realized your plans were so grandiose. You do not want just to escape. You wish to take down the entire fortress.”
“King Charvod cannot pin me to a wall if I knock the wall down first.” He took too much satisfaction from the thought. This place was getting to him. “But I will settle for causing some minor problems and distractions as we make our way to Weylind. The primary concern is escaping alive.”
“Of course.” Melantha patted his hand. “I will do everything I can to make sure you get home.”
Her fingers were cold. Without a blanket, dressed in a silk dress as she was, she must be freezing.
“Thank you.” Farrendel tried to shift, but the stone pinned him too tightly. All he could do was wiggle his fingers. “If Prince Rharreth is not likely to return tonight, then you should share the blanket. The nights are growing colder.”
“Perhaps Prince Rharreth will let me haul more of the hay from my cell into here. Maybe I can even convince him to let me stay here. It would be easier for him to care for both of us at once.” Melantha settled onto the floor next to him, her back to him, and tugged a corner of the blanket over herself. She rested her head on her arm. “How long do you think it will take Weylind and the army to get here?”
“I do not know.” Farrendel shifted his head, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the small padding of hay Melantha had given him. Realistically, it would probably take weeks. The ice and blizzards that the trolls would hurl at the army would make going difficult, and he could not begin to guess what it would take to move Escarland’s army over the treacherous Kostarian terrain with all their large weapons.
But he desperately hoped it would not be that long. Surely Weylind would have guessed how the trolls would fight back, and he would have planned for it. And Essie’s brothers would have figured out a way to counteract the ice for Escarland’s army as well.
He reached for the heart bond. Somewhere, Essie was trying to sleep. But she was cold. Why was she cold? Surely she was not in Kostaria. Her brother Averett would not have wanted her anywhere near the fighting.
But she would come for him. Because of the heart bond, she might have been able to talk her brothers into it.
Another reason he needed to escape on his own.
THE BLIZZARD HOWLED above the thick branches of the shelter Jalissa had grown from the scrub brush that grew between the rocks of the windswept Kostarian wilderness.
Essie shifted. The grass and scrub brush padding Jalissa had also grown insulated them from the cold of the ground and was far softer than the rock. But it was still so cold. She tucked her face deeper into the blanket. Her nose was cold. Her fingers were cold. Even dressed in thick clothes and under the blankets allotted to her and Jalissa, her bones still ached with cold.
The blanket shook with a shiver, but Essie wasn’t the one shivering. She half rolled to peer over her shoulder at Jalissa. “It’s hard to sleep when you’re shivering.”
“Yes.” Jalissa pressed her hand to the wall of the shelter, and more leaves and branches filled in the cracks to make their shelter more snug. “I hope the warriors do not freeze tonight.”
Essie nodded. The elves had expended as much energy as they dared to grow shelters like this for most of the men, both elves and humans. But a portion of the men had to stay alert and patrolling to make sure there would not be a night attack. Nor could most of the shelters be as snug as the one Essie shared with Jalissa, since a door needed to be left for the Escarlish soldiers. According to Essie’s brothers, they were using the canvas from their tents to block the worst of the wind.
Essie shifted closer to the center of the shelter. She and Jalissa had left space between them, but perhaps it was time to stop worrying about personal space. “If we sleep back to back, we’ll stay warmer.”
Jalissa immediately shifted and put her back to Essie’s. It took a few moments, but Essie felt warmer.
In the shelter her brothers were sharing, they were probably sleeping in a pile to stay warm, though they would not admit it to anyone.
For some reason, the thought made her giggle.
Jalissa glanced over her shoulder. “I do not see anything funny.”
“Sorry, thinking about my brothers unwillingly snuggling to stay warm. Do you think your brother will deign to join their pile out of desperation? He doesn’t have anyone else.”
Jalissa snorted out something like a laugh. “If he does, it will be because your brothers dragged him there too forcibly for him to resist. Though, I almost hope they do. I hate to think of him shivering alone on a night like this.”
The branches above them creaked as another gust of wind howled down from the nearby mountain.
Essie wormed deeper into the blankets. “I’ve slept outside before, but this is a lot colder than family camping nights, that’s for sure.”
“It will probably become even colder before we reach Gror Grar.” Jalissa also burrowed into the blankets.
Essie grimaced at that thought. Each day had been a hard-fought battle, and not just against the trolls. The trolls had used their magic to blanket their kingdom with snow and ice. Slogging through it wearied the men even before they reached the battle, while they struggled to stay warm during the night. The mule teams strained to pull the artillery guns forward, even though they had been put on sled skis to make moving them easier, while the few steam-powered transports for the weapons often got stuck on the rough terrain and had to be levered free.
Those same steam-powered vehicles had to have their boilers stoked all through the night to keep the engines warm. Normally a job the soldiers avoided, but now they all but fought over the duty. Other soldiers stoked the fires that kept the artillery guns warm enough to function properly.
Even the set of train tracks left abandoned by the trolls was too iced over to be of use, even if they could retrofit an elven train to work on the rails.
“Attacking Kostaria in the early fall might not have been the wisest choice.” Essie’s shivers eased as Jalissa’s shared warmth seeped into her.
Not that they had much of a choice, if they wished to rescue Farrendel. Besides, back in Escarland, the trees had not even begun to turn their autumn colors yet. Summer still lingered with warm days and only mildly chilly nights.
“It would not have mattered. They would have blanketed their kingdom in snow regardless. They have few crops to worry about killing in the summer.” Jalissa tensed, then raised her head. “Grab your rifle.”
Essie reached for the gun she had tucked alongside her under her blankets, keeping it warm and ready. “Another night attack? What direction?”
Then she heard the shouting, the reports of muskets, and the clash of bladed weapons.
Jalissa pointed at the wall of the shelter by their feet. “That is from behind our lines.”
Meaning, the trolls had somehow circled around to attack from the rear. A rear guard was stationed around the perimeter, protecting the noncombatants and healers, but it would not be many.
Essie pushed to her knees. “We need to get everyone to the safety of the front lines.”
“The trolls might be attacking there too.” Jalissa picked up her bow and quiver of arrows.
Good point. “It should still be safer than staying here.”
The shouting grew louder, closer. Jalissa grimaced. “Very well. We should hurry.”
That was a given. She and Jalissa might be able to hold their own against a few trolls. But neither of them was a trained warrior.
Jalissa slung her quiver across her back and glanced at Essie. “Ready?”
As she was already fully dressed and wearing her coat, E
ssie looped the strap of her ammo pouch over her head and gripped her rifle. Her stomach knotted, but she forced herself to smile. “Yes.”
Pressing a hand to the wall, Jalissa’s green magic seeped into their brush shelter. The branches withdrew, opening a door.
An icy blast pelted Essie’s face with globs of snow. She blinked, squinting into the blizzard.
Figures dashed across the camp. Elven healers, the Escarlish surgeons, and a few soldiers ran through the snow, headed for the safety of the front line. Behind them came a tight knot of trolls, their white hair and gray skin nearly blending into their blizzard.
Essie clambered to her feet and dashed across the snow. When she could get a shot past her fleeing men and allies, Essie dropped to a knee and lifted her rifle. She drew in a deep breath, held it as she lined up her shot, then released a part of her breath to steady her hands. Her finger gently squeezed the trigger.
A troll went down, blood staining the snow.
She couldn’t let herself think about the fact that she had just taken another life. Stomach churning, she levered the rifle to chamber a round and lined up for another shot.
Jalissa halted next to her. The bow thrummed. An arrow plunged into the throat of another troll.
“Rally to the princess!” A command called in Escarlish. A few of the fleeing Escarlish soldiers halted and veered their path toward Essie.
As she fired again, wounding a troll in the arm this time, a few Escarlish soldiers flopped to the ground beside her, raising muskets.
“Stand by the princess!” This shout was in elvish. The elven warriors on the rear guard formed up next to Jalissa.
Essie couldn’t tell, thanks to all the swirling snow, but her and Jalissa’s small force seemed pitiful compared to the numbers racing toward them.
Except for the cold and snow, this was too much like that ambush. Had it really only been a mere two and a half weeks ago?
But this time, there would be no Farrendel to blast the trolls back with his magic.