“She is mine,” I told Dhreo. “But any soldiers she brings with her…do as you will.” There wasn’t room for mercy here, not as there was with Firien’s people. This fight needed to be won.
The taunt worked. Ellsmid started towards me, shoving aside anyone who dared stand in her way.
I jumped from the wall and started to lure her towards the river.
“Call for her, Zarah,” I said quietly. “Call for your lover.”
“Ellsmid!” Zarah’s voice weaved through the air and over the battle.
“No!” Ellsmid cried back.
I ran.
The foulings’ teeth snapped at flesh. The remaining colossi swung their icy arms until the slashes and stabs of their enemies wore out the old magic holding them together. They slipped away, until they were all gone.
The undead tugged at me, too; they lost the flesh that they had conjured, and fought on as spirits. If that cowed the enemy, the cowardice was soon over as they realized that a blade was of some use, even against spirits.
A whistle split the air, and my side erupted in pain. The human in me screamed, and fell into the snow pile.
My foulings growled, and leapt at something. The old magic protested, and I could receive clear sign from it as to what was happening.
I reached back, and felt a thick arrow shaft. I followed it down, to where it had entered me. I could still breathe, against the pain. It hadn’t nicked a lung or the diaphragm. That was the most important thing, for now.
I summoned the Lady back, and pulled it out.
The sun was blocked by a human-shaped shadow. I rolled. Ellsmid brought her sword down where I had been moments before. I rolled again, leveraging myself up. The snow was red with my blood.
“Where is she?” Ellsmid screamed.
“Dead and gone,” I replied. Dhreo and my foulings had taken on the several guards that had followed her. “Would you like to join her?”
She raised her sword, and I readied for the attack.
But then there was a pop and whistle. Ellsmid’s cloak tore. She spun.
Father had raised his rifle, and fired a shot. He was now reloading. Aerik came up behind him. Blood was splattered on his tunic and face.
Ellsmid turned and ran.
I stepped after her, but fell to my knees.
“You’re hurt!” Father said as he dropped his rifle and knelt next to me.
“It’s shallow,” I said through gritted teeth as his prodding hands irritated the wound. “Help the foulings.”
“They’re handling it,” Aerik said.
A deep rumble sounded across the old city.
“Another avalanche?” Father asked.
“No,” I replied, my heart lightening. “Help me up.”
The deep rumble sounded again. Then it was joined by another, louder and sharper. A third, then a fourth, joined the chorus, discordant and echoing off the mountains.
Mother’s mercs had made it.
“Aha!” Aerik cried. Aerlad’s come just in time!”
I grabbed Aerik’s arm. “Take Firien and light the way.”
At the southern end of the dead city, the elves halted. From the ocean fog, seven great masted ships emerged, their white sails imprinted with the symbols of the companies that owned them. At the front of the pack, the ship’s front-most sail and flag bore my mother’s shell. My ship, with Aerlad at the helm.
The horns sounded again, louder as they cleared the fog and the sounds went unmuffled. Their cannon doors opened, the long barrels emerging from the bowels of the ships.
Luck was finally coming over to our side.
CHAPTER 17
The pyres lit, flaring into bright, tall flames. Cheers went up. Aerlad’s lead ship banked, turning until they were just short of the ice flows. With puffs of smoke and booms, the cannons fired. The shots landed in the heart of Ellsmid’s troops. Rock and snow and bodies flew in the explosions.
“Retreat!” The cry came from among the chaos. Another echoed it. Some of Ellsmid’s men started to flee back from where they had come.
“Tiri!” Bardol shouted from among the fray.
“Eva, wait!” Father said as I dove for the nearest stone. I hopped up on it and scanned the crowd. Ellsmid had found her former scribe, and cornered her. Bardol wasn’t far behind, but Tiri was tripping over her own feet.
I ran toward them as fast as I could. But Ellsmid was quicker. She raised her sword to end Tiri.
Bardol intervened. He dove over Tiri, attacking Ellsmid like a wild man. But his movements were jerky, and Ellsmid had anger behind her. I had meant for that anger to come to me, not to him.
Ellsmid struck, and Bardol crumbled.
“Ellsmid!” I shouted.
She glanced up, caught my eyes.
“Fall back, my lady!” A voice called. “Fall back! The cannons will decimate us!”
Ellsmid hesitated, but finally obeyed the call.
As she disappeared into the dust and bodies, I slid to a halt at Bardol’s side.
Tiri wobbled up, gripping her sword like a cane. But Bardol did not.
I knelt next to him. Blood flowed from his chest, fast and thick and dark. It was a mortal wound. Before I could think otherwise, I gathered my old magic.
He coughed, and spat out blood. His wide eyes found mine. “I don’t want to be a ghost here,” he rasped. “Let…let me die.”
I needed every man, every soul I could get.
But that was the Lady thinking.
I release the old magic, and simply grasped his hand. “You will pass to somewhere better, Bardol. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
He nodded, sighed, and was gone.
I closed his eyes.
He hadn’t even liked me much, but he had died for me all the same.
I grasped his sword, gave it to Tiri. “It’s sharper,” I said. “And he wouldn’t mind.”
She nodded. Her eyes reddened, but she breathed a deep breath and the tears didn’t fall.
“Go.”
She did, taking in a deep breath, before turning and heading towards the show and the ships.
Aerlad had brought much-needed support, but now Ellsmid was retreating too. I couldn’t have that.
I called Zarah forth. She came, stealing my breath as she appeared. My wound throbbed horribly.
“You called?” she spat out. There were ghostly tears on her decaying face.
I was not moved. “Is her love for you that true?” I asked.
Even in death, she looked doubtful.
“Let’s find out, then. Ellsmid!”
My cry echoed off the rock and snow, the power of the Lady weak but the anger of the human strong.
From the dust of the cannon fire, she emerged.
“Zarah!” she cried.
I grabbed Zarah’s hair and pulled until the ghost cried out. She may have been dead, but I could still be cruel to her.
“Come free her, Ellsmid. Scream for me, Zarah.”
“Ellsmid!” Zarah cried again.
I turned towards the mountains of Tal Anor, and pulled Zarah with me. The old magic gave me speed. The Lady gave me the cruelty to use Zarah. Ellsmid followed with fury and rage.
When we reached the mountainside, I turned Zarah into ghost and dust. Her voice was an echo, faint and mournful. I leapt up the mountainside, the old magic both pushing and pulling me along, flexing to my every thought and demand. Where Istumbled, the old magic pushed me up. Ellsmid’s heavy footfalls echoed loudly through the threads of the old magic. Zarah’s cries only pulled her along more quickly. It was working—I was separating Ellsmid from her soldiers. But so was I leaving everyone behind.
“I will not do this!” Zarah cried to me.
“You will,” I replied, and continued up the mountains. Through crevice and under ice falls I kept going, drawing farther and farther away from the fray. I silenced any of the voices coming my way—my failing colossi, the undead who protested their servitude even as they fought for me, the foulings
who couldn’t find me and worried. I did not need to know if they were winning or losing. All that mattered was Ellsmid.
“Come get her!” The Lady ordered whenever Ellsmid’s footsteps faltered, and suddenly they were urged onward again.
My lungs burned with the effort. The daughter inside me protested the rough treatment. The Lady didn’t allow me to stop. I reached a crest, and pulled myself up and over. It was flat and surrounded by jagged mountainsides that even I couldn’t pull myself up. I spun, and waited for Ellsmid.
She came, pulling herself over as I had, her sword still in hand. I summoned Zarah again, my breath stealing from my lungs with the effort.
“I am dead!” Zarah cried out. I forced her to stay at my side, binding her there with the old magic. But I could not bind her mouth.
Ellsmid wobbled to her feet, her chest heaving but her sword ready.
“I am gone!” Zarah said, her ghostly decay shaking with effort. My hold on her was weakening. “Flee! Before I have to kill you!”
Not my hold, I corrected myself. The Lady’s. And suddenly the hold was strong again, and Zarah silenced.
But too late; Ellsmid turned, and fled.
Now I chased after her.
With wordless orders, the old magic pulled the snow pack down around her. She dodged the first, but the second blocked the way we had come. She dove down another crevasse, finding rock to run on. I followed. Zarah faded away, and I let her. I needed all I had for the speed to catch up.
The mountains rumbled around me. Stones tumbled and fell. But none hit their target. Every chance she had, she flung herself down every slope, every pitch. Careless, but lucky. I hoped to hear the snap of bone, to see her skull bounce off a rock ledge, but it didn’t happen.
I slammed my hand against the stone. It cracked under the old magic, splitting downward until the whole mountain trembled. Ellsmid slipped and fell. I opened a chasm in front of her. Rocks tumbled; the snow pack slid inward like an avalanche. Ellsmid scrambled back.
“We are not done, my lady,” I said.
“So we are not,” Ellsmid replied.
“Have you ever sparred with your lover?” I asked.
Her eyes were wide with fear and rage, but she nodded all the same. “Many times.”
What was I doing? This was cruel. This was not me. No, it was the Lady. The Lady would not be kind to someone who tried to take what as hers. “Then it is time to put practice into action. Zarah!”
“I can’t stop!” Zarah warned, before she drew her sword and lunged at her lover.
“Zarah!” Ellsmid cried, but she parried the attack.
My grip tightened on Dauntless, and I joined them in their dance.
Ellsmid had trained well. Zarah and I struck at the same time, one low, one high. But Ellsmid parried one and dodged the other. She used the space of our little ledge, not keeping herself in one spot. I fractured the ice pack under my feet, turned stone into flakes that skidded against each other. Ellsmid was light on her feet. Zarah still resisted my hold. I could not focus on both things.
You are cruel, I thought to the Lady, but I had no choice. I had made my bargain with her. I let her take me over.
The old magic consumed me. Like with a heavy drink, my limbs were suddenly warm. My feet moved quickly; my eyes darted over Ellsmid and around our makeshift sparring ring, looking for any weakness or advantage. My grip on Zarah tightened, and was complete. The will to fight me drained from her. The soul left her eyes. There was now only my slave. And then I had the knowledge of her weaknesses, of the way she would turn her body when she was tired, leaving her chest and stomach exposed as she swung.
Ellsmid raised her sword again, and I stepped back.
Block it, the Lady ordered Zarah.
Zarah did, slamming her decaying body against the blade. It cut deep into what was left of the flesh.
“No!” Ellsmid cried. Her free arm curled around Zarah’s shoulders. She had completely forgotten about me.
I gripped Dauntless tight, took two steps, and impaled her. Between ribs, through the left lung, just nicking her heart.
The slave Zarah faded into snow powder and dust.
Dauntless was stuck good. With a boot on her back, I pulled it out.
She fell to her knees, her sword falling from her hands. Her cloak and tunic was quickly turning wet.
I circled around, so the Lady could see her face.
The burning hatred was still in her eyes, but so was the knowledge of defeat.
“Bitch,” Ellsmid wheezed. Each breath gurgled; blood came out of her mouth in spittles.
“Yes,” the Lady agreed. I gripped Dauntless, and beheaded her. Her body and head fell.
Snow turned red.
Her spirit lingered for just a moment, but I wanted none of it. The Lady wanted none of it either, and let it fade.
“Ellsmid,” Zarah whispered, reforming herself next to her dead friend’s body.
My stomach cramped. Another growth pang as my stomach got larger? No, this one kept going, and growing. It burned more than any sword or arrow wound.
I could stand no more, and fell to my knees. I dropped Dauntless and pressed my hands to my stomach.
“Not yet, child,” I whispered. “You have a few months yet.”
Slowly, the pains passed. I pressed my face into the cool snow. It nearly melted beneath me. My clothes were sticking to me. I pulled off my gloves slowly, finger by finger. Then I untied my cloak, and fell back again.
“You didn’t keep her,” Zarah whispered.
I turned my head. Zarah knelt next to her dead lover.
“I already have one of you,” I replied quietly. “Two of you is too much.”
“She did love me.” Zarah seemed as surprised as I felt.
“Aye,” I said. “She did.”
“You are cruel.”
“The Lady has no business with mercy,” I said.
“Free me,” Zarah pleaded. “Free me to be with her.”
“I would if I could, Zarah.”
“So you don’t know how,” she said bitterly.
“I will find a way,” I said, as much for myself as for her.
“Let me be in peace until you do. I cannot bear this.”
I waved a hand, and she disappeared into nothingness.
“You were weakened out on the battlefield,” a deep voice said.
My heart leapt in my chest. I scrambled up, Dauntless in hand, Dhreo at my side. It was the Dagnar queen. Her breastplate glinted silver, as did her crown. Her furs were pure white. She had a hand on the hilt of her sword, but made no move to draw it.
“I had wondered why, but I know.” She tilted her head, her eyes examining me. She was puzzled. “Yet you chose to fight. Why?”
With the gesture of a finger I held Dhreo back, but remained wary. “It had to be done. It had to be ended here.”
She nodded. “Indeed. Her army is retreating, and yours is obeying your command to let them go.”
“Why tell me this? You could slaughter me now,” I said. “The Lady is exhausted.”
“I see what you are now,” the Queen said. “And I cannot say now that I would wish this on anyone, much less myself.”
“Only a fool would want this, my lady.”
She inclined her head to me, deeper than simple agreement. “Indeed, Lady. And I am no fool.”
“You almost were,” I said. “When we first met.”
“But for other reasons. I don’t take kindly to my grandson falling in love with a mortal woman.”
“Grandson…” Dalandaras. Of course. Then I made the connection. “And Singael?”
She raised a brow. “My husband.”
Small world.
“One would think that I had learned my lesson where old magic is concerned. But the temptation was still there. Of course, were the dangers of the old magic not enough, I will not harm my great-grandchild.”
I rested a hand on my belly. “She will not be…like I am. She will be as normal
as a half-elf can be.”
“That is good news—one Lady is more than enough. As you know these mountains better than I do, I will leave you to finish what you need to do.”
A scramble of rocks came from behind the Queen. Aerik and Firien came running up the path, Tiri not far behind.
“Ah, my wayward subject,” the Queen said lightly, even as Firien drew his sword on her. “Patience, I have not harmed your new mistress. Tend to her.”
As she left, my foulings appeared, passing by her as if she was nothing.
“Dhreo,” I breathed his name, a simple sigh of relief. It was all the energy I could muster.
“Must you go now?” Aerik asked.
I nodded, but could not let go of Dhreo. I was spent. I wanted Dalandaras. I wanted Father. But I could not find them. They would not let me do what I had to do. At least, that was what I was telling myself.
“Take her to Tal Aesiri,” Aerik told the fouling. “Keep her safe.”
“Have Iasul and Tunir bury Annel near where they buried Adhanel. Take any of our dead there as well, if their families wish it. Honor them.”
“We will, Lady,” Tiri said.
“Stall Dalandaras and my father as long as you can.”
“We will,” Firien said.
I pressed my mind to think a little bit more, before exhaustion completely overtook me. “Tell Dalandaras and my father to wait outside the north wall in three or four months. The foulings will summon them. If they attempt to reach Tal Aesiri, they will be rebuffed.”
Aerik nodded, tears in his eyes.
I could not say goodbye. It would hurt to much. I clutched Dhreo, and swung myself up on his back. “Quickly,” I murmured. “But gently.”
And then we were off.
EPILOGUE
I did not let the Lady take over during the birth, though she surely would have taken the pain away. It was easier to think of her a separate being inside of me, lest I be consumed by her. But even she had no interest in birth. She was immortal; her children were spirits, not flesh.
This would not be one of her children. This would be my child.
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