“Here, I can presume his safety. And Firien has agreed to keep him here. I need you with me, to help me get my father.”
“Always,” he murmured, and kissed me. That part of me was still there, the hot-blooded part of me that wanted his lips on mine, and on my neck, and to run my fingers through his hair and feel his chest pressed against mine. And I grasped at the human part of me and we lost ourselves in it, until the sun had descended behind the distant peaks and we returned to the makeshift shelter once more. True to his word, Dalandaras forced me to eat, and then even forced me to lay down beside him, on our cloaks and under the furs. I waited for his breathing to even, and for Firien and Aerik’s murmurs to quiet in their part of the cave, before I pulled away, found my boots again, and went walking.*+
I didn’t know where; the dance of the green threads in the sky was not visible, and had not been for some time. The winter clouds had kept in. Perhaps I was curious to see how the spirits lived at night? But I did not venture to their part of the plateau, nor did I stray towards the fracture and the crater that seemed to be my new throne.
I walked into the night, brooding, angry, angry as Fardeth had been, to be trapped here, angry that I was becoming as Adhannor had been, half-flesh and half-spirit, an undead creature that could still bleed. Many had wanted the power, and wanted it still - the Dagnar Queen, and Ellsmid. And yet here I was, with the power, and yet whining to myself about it.
I hadn’t seen home in nearly a year. Somewhere in my battle against Adhannor, my birthday had gone unremarked. It was understandable. These were not the sunny days of smooth sailing on a tropical ocean. These were dark times.
And then my mother was there, standing in front of me, illuminated against the darkness of the night.
“Mother,” I whispered.
The ghost of my mother smiled back at me. She was as flesh and blood as she had been in real life, but her golden hair did not move with the breeze. She even wore Dauntless, though the true article hung by my side. And I could hear the crash of waves of the shore and taste the salt air, as if I we were both once again at our beloved beach.
“You were away long,” Mother said with a smile. “I worried for you.”
I could not touch her. If I did, I would reveal her secret - that she wasn’t real. Only I could see her. Aerik, her best friend, could not, and Father, the man she once loved, could not. Only I could. That haunted me more than when she had been torn from my hand in the storm and plummeted into the depths of the ocean, and to her death. “I had business,” I said dully.
“Business, yes. You know what it is to be a true leader now. You barely had time for it at Port Darad, before your father called you to him.”
True leader. If only she knew. She seemed not to - it was a fluke of the old magic that she was here at all, but she had no knowledge of it herself.
“Do true leaders let criminals rot?” I asked quietly, thinking of Zarah, somewhere out here on this plateau in the dead of night. “Do I condemn them to an eternity in a corpse that will decay and yet never truly die? Do I condemn a person who has had no trial too assign guilt or innocence?”
“We’re out of my depth, poppet,” Mother said gently. “And we’re out of yours. I think you might have to stumble through that alone.”
I nodded. I had not expected a miracle for those questions. “I miss you, Mother.”
Mother smiled again, and I thought I could see tears on her cheeks. “I miss you, my girl.”
And I stood there, staring at her, unable to touch her, and waited for the night to end.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Before Dalandaras rose, I sought out Zarah. I found her, in the crater that had formed when I had defeated Adhannor, that had melded together the great rift of old magic as if it was never there. She looked towards the rise of the sun, surrounded by nothing and no one but the rocks and glass that had melded together with the heat of Adhannor’s death.
“Friendless?” I asked as I topped the crater wall.
Her head turned slightly, and I saw the part of her face that was dead. If she had not betrayed our friendship, I would have pitied her.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “You cannot have my life. It is already gone.”
“I could make your death more permanent, if you wish,” I replied.
“And what would you have in return? Do not pretend you came to me now because you meant to be merciful.”
“I would not put effort into pretending,” I said.“What I want is knowledge.”
Zarah turned to me then, what flesh that was left on her face spreading in a twisted grin. “Are you not the Lady?” she asked. “You have no need for my knowledge, Great One.”
“There is one who has taken command of Winter’s Crown.”
“And you think I can help you in this?” she demanded, and walked towards me. She had tied a tourniquet around her thigh, to keep her flesh from peeling down.
I let her approach me. My fists curled until my nails dug into my skin and tore at it. The urge to kill her again was far more intense now that I had to face the reality of her existence, rather than the discovery of it.
But I had a use for her. If Lady Ellsmid was as driven to destroy me as Zarah had been, then there had to be something that bound them. Zarah’s purpose had been to tr y to gain Adhannor’s powers. Ellsmid’s purpose was to destroy me and my father. It was quite a coincidence that both should happen so close to one another.
She came so close, that I could see the details in the irises of her eyes. A parasite wormed its way through one. Could she feel it? It did not disgust me. It was one of death’s servants, claiming the flesh. It must have been very inconvenient to her, though. I held her gaze, until she looked away. I grabbed her chin, and squeezed. I could feel her jawbone fracture, and she winced. “Do not look away from me, Zarah. Look into my eyes.”
She did.
“Who is Lady Ellsmid to you?”
“Ellie,” she whispered, her eyes widening. Then whatever memory I had conjured shut itself away. She slapped my hand away, and I let her. “You will know nothing from me, Lady.”
I smiled grimly. “I know enough already, Zarah.”Whoever Ellsmid was, she was dear, still dear, to the creature that now stood before me.
“There was another thing I had been pondering,” I murmured. “When Adhannor summoned his minions, did he conjure them forth from the depths of Tal Aesiri, or did he already have them with him? It’s almost like keeping a playing card up your sleeve. Shall we see which one it was, Zarah?”
Her eyes widened again and she shook her head, but I would not let her move. My will would not let her move. My foulings and colossi and undead had free rein to go where they pleased, but only because I let them. If I chose, I could be as Adhannor was, a slavemaster. With Zarah, I chose that now. I touched her cheek, and commanded her into me. I did not know the mechanics, but the will was enough. As if she was only a ghost, her body seemed to dissolve into a tangle of sand and snow, from the feet upwards, and then her fingers, and her legs and arms, until she stared at me with just her fearful brown eyes and the parasite. And then those were gone into dust too, and nothing remained in front of me.
But over my heart there was the feeling of a cold, hard stone. It chilled my blood and stole my breath, and darkness swam in front of my eyes. The weight of a soul, I supposed giddily. A soul I had reason to hate, but the control I had over it now did not absolve me of…of…
I wasn’t certain. But it was a heavy burden.
“Oh, pet,” I heard my mother whisper, but when my sight came back, she was not there.
Dalandaras awaited me just as the sun peeked over the mountaintops, along with my foulings. I saw Firien from the depths of his cave, but no Aerik. Hopefully he would forgive me.
We moved so fast, even Dalandaras lagged behind. I needed him with me because I could trust him to know the perils of Adhannor like no other. He had seen the downfall of his grandfather, after all.
We arrived
there in a storm. It was a gentle storm, I knew. I had come up to Winter's Crown on the tail-end of a fierce one, where the drifts of snow towered far above our carriages and even the great beasts born and bred in the north had trouble moving in that weather. But if Dalandaras needed a rest, he did not tell me. I could feel that he did, but I could also feel that he did not want me to stop for his sake. It was selfish, but I did not.
Winter’s Crown had been built on ruins. It had been more necessity than anything; the ruin rocks could be reused in the construction, and it was the best vantage point in the valley. But if Adhannor’s prison had taught me anything, it was that some ruins didn’t want to be found. Not by humans. There had to be another entrance.
The gift of seeing in the darkness was no use in a whiteout, but the stones of Winter's Crown sang to me now that I thought to look for the old magic. It was another one of my foolish mistakes, to forget about what powers I did have.
"Scout low," I murmured to the foulings. "See if there are any forces outside the walls. Attack no one. If the old magic shows you an entrance, tell me."
Annel and the others departed into the white snow, their pawprints disappearing as quickly as they appeared, covered by fresh powder. I could not see any guards or others from here, so I sought out the old stones, looking for cracks or tunnels or entranceways. The town itself sat on the rock of the mountain, but the closer the town drew near to the Fort itself, the more the old ruins revealed themselves. Broken, cracked, hidden away under the streets and houses. But the Fort itself glowed like a beacon, repurposed from the ruins themselves, their original purpose forgotten but their magic still strong.
Heavy footsteps intruded on my mind. But it was no human - it was Dalandaras, exhausted.
I forced myself to hunker down behind a dune of snow, bringing Dalandaras with me. It was buffer enough against the whiteout, but Dalandaras was still fading. My poor lover had not said a word as I had dragged him across this frozen landscape.
I sought his hands, and found them. Even through his gloves, I knew he was cold. I willed him what I could, hoping that by some wish of the old magic he would find his strength. I felt his tiredness fade.
We waited for the foulings to circle Winter’s Crown. I could feel the connection between us grow faint when they had reached the farthest distance from me, creeping along the snow dunes and between exposed craigs of rock. I could see the soldiers on the parapets through their eyes, sense the heartbeats of the human men and women as the foulings sensed them. The old magic in the foundations of the keep called to them too, like a beacon of light. They did not like the human intrusion onto these old stones any more than I did.
And then, when they were at their farthest distance to me, they saw two figures outside the walls. They were cloaked in white and wool. My heart leapt—could it be Father escaping, or Eliawen and Lorandal exiting the keep in secret? But no, elves knew how to blend better than this, would have sensed the foulings nearby. These were two young men, garbed clumsily, sneaking from Winter’s Crown through some fortuitous chink in its protection.
I impressed upon the foulings not to approach them closer, and then I came back to myself. Dalandaras had stood guard while I had looked through the foulings’ eyes, and with a touch of my arm I told him to follow me.
We circled around the very north side of Winter’s Crown, staying just out of our own sight of the walls of the town. Both of us would have had a much easier time spying on the humans than they would have had spotting us, but I didn’t want to risk it. Only when we had reached the very north of Winter’s Crown did I dare turn towards it.
The storm had lessened but the snow was still coming down hard. I found Annel, who guided me to the best spot to view the young escapees. I caught the fleeting impression that more men had left Winter’s Crown and were gathering north of the fortress.
I did not have to speak to Dalandaras for him to have the same thought I was—there must be some old cave or crevice giving the escapees shelter, for there was no old magic that way that pulled me to them.
Without a word my foulings spread out, circling wide and trailing the men as if to flank a kill. We trailed, following their distant heartbeats, Dalandaras following me, and we trailed through the blinding white after them.
The slope was gentle, but we were heading back into the mountains true enough. If they did not walk with a purpose, I would have been afraid that the men were stumbling blindly towards their deaths. I would have feared to leave Dalandaras out here alone.
The foulings guided me up a ledge, and with a break in the snowfall I could see into the shallow ravine that the men were walking through.
Fortune - or the old magic - was smiling upon me. The sneaks were Tunir and Iasul, and several of the men and women we had met at the tavern. It seemed there was bit of a resistance to Ellsmid's rule. That was good.
With a flick of my head the foulings cirlced back out again, providing a good watch in case Ellsmid’s men had followed. And then I lowered myself into the crevice, and followed them.
There was a cave at the end, dark but sheltered from the storm. Someone had lit a fire, but it was only a lantern. No human would have been able to see it in this storm.
“Where can we go?” I heard a man ask.
“She’s flogged my mates,” another said. “I won’t leave without them.”
They were whispering; that was good, too. I wasn’t even certain Dalandaras could hear them.
“The lady elf says there are caves and tunnels where we could shelter from the whether,” Tunir’s young voice came through clearly.
“You trust the elves?” the first man demanded. “I would not.”
“They have my family too,” Tunir replied firmly. “My ma. But she would want us to get out if there was a way.”
“It would be suicide, with the winter storms,” the second man, the one with flogged friends, said.
I reached the entrance, and stepped in. None turned to face me in the faint light. But I was walking like the Lady, wasn’t I? Not wanting to be seen or heard, so I wasn’t. I pulled off my hood, and scraped my boots on the stone floor.
Four men and two women spun to face me. They had pistols, but Tunir and Iasul dropped their arms when they spotted me, their eyes wide.
“Eva!” Iasul cried. “We thought you dead!”
“Is that what they’re saying?” I asked, Dalandaras coming up beside me.
“Nobody’s saying anything,” Tunir replied. “But Ellsmid would not let anyone leave, and now we are stuck here for the winter.”
"My father?" I demanded.
"Imprisoned," Tunir replied.
"But still in Winter's Crown?"
"Aye" Iasul said. "Ellsmid wants to try him for treason herself."
She would pay for that. I would make her. "And your mother?" I asked.
"Down there with him," he said. "We've been allowed to see her twice; they're kept in separate cells on opposite ends of the block, with a guard standing between them always to discourage speech."
I looked to the other men and women in the ravine. “And your friends, some flogged and imprisoned, yes?”
The biggest man among them nodded, his eyes red. “We all want to be gone from this place, but I won’t leave them.”
“Have you spoken to Lorandal about them?” I asked. “The male elf—he is a good healer.”
“He offered his services,” the big man replied. “But Ellsmid declined it. She said that flogging was a punishment, and so was healing the human way.”
Father never flogged anyone, of that I was certain. Jailed, yes, or sent back south to one of the Empire’s prisons, but never flogged.
I glanced at Dalandaras, who nodded slowly. “We can heal them,” he replied. “Not completely, but we can give them some of their strength back.” He lowered his voice, and spoke to me in elvish. “But you cannot think to move them in winter, not in these storms.”
I would have to. I needed men and women to garrison Tal Aesiri.
The old magic could keep the storms off the men, and there would be food enough with the winter animals. “And how close is Winter’s Crown to revolting against Ellsmid’s rule?” I asked in the common tongue.
“Very,” a woman spoke this time. She was the barkeeper, I remembered, who had hosted the meeting with my father. “Some of the winter stores didn’t make it up to us in time; we’re on rations. We’re cold. We’re starving. And we know that your father is being held in the cells below the keep.”
“Do you know what it would mean?” Dalandaras spoke up. Whether it was to make the humans reconsider, or to make me reconsider, I did not know. Maybe it was both. “It is treacherous outside these walls. If you rebel against the Lady Governor, who has your Empire’s backing, then it may be that you will become traitors. You will have to fight for your lives anyway.”
“I saw your monsters,” the woman said, looking to me. “I saw that they protected your father and you. Will they help us?”
“Understand this,” I said. “This fight is not about Ellsmid. It is about what Ellsmid wants that is up here in the north. The foulings are part of it, but you would be joining their fight, not they yours. Your rebellion against Ellsmid is nothing compared to the war that Ellsmid is willing to start against me.”
“And what fight is that?” Iasul asked. He was not quaking, as I would have expected a young man of his age to do. But he wasn’t such a young man anymore, was he? I was thinking more and more in terms of centuries and ages, but by human years he was not much younger than I. He had as much right as I did to carry the sword that hung at his side.
“Annel,” I called softly, and heard the fouling’s padded paws on the stone behind me.
The big man raised his pistol again, and Dalandaras held up a hand.
I knelt, and nuzzled Annel as she came up beside me, her fur and scales mottling from the white of her now camouflage to the black that made her and all foulings fierce to behold.
I beckoned Iasul forward. He took a tiny step, but nothing more. Such distance would not do, not for my purpose. With but a gesture of my head and my wish, Annel came forward, ears perked.
Winter's Sword Page 9