The wine tasted spicy, both warm and tart, like sweet prunes soaked in lemon and mellowed over a hundred years. Ella felt it slip down her throat, thinking that it suited this man.
"You sealed the Wondhip Pass?" the prince asked.
Ella nodded.
"How did you move the stones?" He shook his head. "What does Altura's lore have to do with moving large objects?"
"It wasn't enchantment," Ella said. "I learned a few things from an old Halrana animator."
"And this bridge that saved your people… an incredible feat."
Ella stayed silent, remembering the soldiers and refugees: those who had not been saved at the Bridge of Sutanesta that day. She remembered Amber.
"Your father is High Lord of Raj Hazara?" Ella asked, changing the subject.
"Kalif, but yes, that is what you would call it. He is an old man, Ella, and I fear he may not have much longer for this world. He tells me I am strong enough to lead the tribes when he is gone, but I have doubts."
"You?" Ella smiled. "Look at where you are. How many men do you command? Your army must be as powerful as the imperial legion, to have taken Petrya so quickly."
"Such numbers are hard to control," the prince said. "As long as I keep them busy fighting, yes, they will do as I command; but what about when there is peace? What then?"
"I think that's the question everyone is asking," Ella said. "The Tingaran Empire is dead. Even if we can defeat the Primate, what comes next? Who will lead?"
Prince Ilathor smiled. "Such intelligence. It is good to have you with me again."
Ella sipped at her wine to disguise her blush.
Yet her thoughts now turned serious. This man held the fate of Shani's people in his hands. She owed it to her friend to do her best to help her people.
"Prince Ilathor, there is a woman with me, a Petryan."
"Ah, yes. The elementalist. I have been meaning to ask you about her. To whom does she owe her allegiance?"
Ella hesitated. "It's a little more complicated than that." She took a deep breath. "Your Highness, not all Petryans were hungering for this war. Many only hate Altura and Halaran because that's what their parents have told them to do, and most don't hate at all, they just want to raise their families in peace and prosperity. The world of leadership and the administration of the realm is a distant thing for most."
Ella thought of her brother. "Sometimes there are leaders who work to do good in the world," she said. "Brave men whose values are more important to them than doing what they think people want and expect of them. Then there are other leaders. They come to power because they inherited it, or because their supporters are more vocal, more violent, and more intimidating than those who just want to live their lives. The Petryan High Lord and his supporters are such men, ruling with fear, filled with hate. Hate is a disease, but it's a disease that can be cured. The greatest factor is belief that it can be cured, and this is what makes what you are doing such an opportunity. Please, Prince Ilathor, give the Petryans a chance to believe."
The prince stayed silent throughout Ella's speech, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Finally, he spoke. "May I ask you, Enchantress Ella, why you think I am here? Is it to conquer for the sake of conquering? To give my barbarian hordes some place to pillage? Perhaps to pay for all of that construction at Agira Lahsa?"
Ella opened her mouth to protest.
"No," Ilathor said forcefully. "I have eyes to see, and ears to listen. I know that the world is changing. This disease you speak of is an apt metaphor. I have treated the Petryans well, and I have heard their complaints. They do not know who to replace their High Lord with, but that is their concern, not mine. When we take Tlaxor there will be those who fight against us, and those who rise up against their oppressors and fight with us. We are distributing the message, and the message is clear. Petrya will be free."
Ella knew the prince was anything but a liar. As she heard the conviction in his voice she felt closer to him than she ever had before.
"That's all I need to know, Your Highness." She smiled at him.
"Your people will also be free, Ella. The men of this Black Army attack your homeland daily, and I am told Altura may not be able to hold. With Petrya liberated, Altura may be able to break free of the encirclement. The Alturan commander's southern flank will be safe, and his strength in the east will grow." The prince looked into Ella's eyes. "I have only met one Alturan, but she taught me about her people, and I now feel I must do what I can to help them."
Ella looked down at the table. "I thank you for my people, Your Highness."
"There is more," the prince said. "I need you to understand, for it was you who first told me about these lands in a way that I could understand. I now realise it is my duty to do what I can to help the multitudes of the world. Petrya is just the beginning. With the Tingaran Empire broken someone will need to pick up the pieces before the world falls apart. I intend to take this army to Seranthia. I will kill this Primate and display his head for all to see, and put this world back on track." He paused, his eyes intent, before suddenly breaking off. "Now," Prince Ilathor smiled, "I have done it again. I apologise if my thoughts are on the struggle ahead. Let us speak of other matters." He took a sip of wine. "Please, tell me… who is Ella?"
"Well, the Alturan leader you spoke of…" Ella said. "He's my brother."
The prince's smile broadened. "And so I finally learn about Ella. Please," he topped up her glass, "tell me more about yourself. Tell me of your family, and your youth, and this incredible talent for lore you possess."
Ella spoke at length, surprised when the prince's probing questions drew more and more information out of her. She found herself telling him things she had thought she'd locked up deep inside, but there were still facets of her life she held back. Killian was never mentioned, nor was Brandon Goodwin, the old soldier who raised her. They both seemed far away now; distant memories.
At some point food arrived, spiced lamb with roasted yellow and orange vegetables, served with a nutty substance comprised of tiny balls of grain. The flavour was intense and sweet, and left a tingling in Ella's mouth when she was done.
They finished the meal with fresh fruit and cool water, before Ella once again found herself at the window, standing side by side with the prince, gazing out at the moon's glow on the misty lake.
"It is good to have you by my side once more," Ilathor said.
"I thought you had invited me here to have dinner with your men," Ella said, looking up at him.
He laughed. "And why would I want to share you with them?"
Ella smiled. Her breath caught as the prince stepped closer to her.
"Your lodgings… are you comfortable?" he said.
Ella looked down to break the prince's gaze, uncomfortable yet excited at the way Ilathor was looking at her. "Yes, I'm fine."
Ilathor stepped closer still and lifted Ella's chin to look into her eyes. Ella felt vulnerable, even as part of her wanted to surrender.
"I… I'd best be going."
"That is a shame," Ilathor said, smiling. "The night is young."
She felt his hand on her hip, feeling the smooth material, running his hand up to her slim waist. Prince Ilathor leaned down, his lips parted.
Ella moved towards him, and they kissed.
His beard was surprisingly soft, and the pressure of his embrace was firm, but gentle. Ella could feel him pushing at her back, and she gave in, moving in closer to him as the insistence of his lips against hers grew in intensity.
She felt his tongue hesitantly probe into her mouth, and when hers came to meet it she felt an electric thrill run up her spine as they touched. Ella didn't care about anything else, she wanted him then, with a sensation that started below her belly and tingled through her chest, to her hardening nipples, and the wonderful feeling of his lips on her mouth.
Ella broke the kiss, for a moment only, staring up at his dark, brooding eyes. Prince Ilathor smiled, his fingers stroking the soft hairs at
the back of her neck, sending another thrill through her body. His hand moved up, outside the front of her dress, to the underside of her breast.
"It brings me joy to have you here," he said.
Ella looked down at the silver chain around her neck. Even as her body burned from the prince's touch, she felt events were moving too quickly.
"I'm tired from travel," she said, stepping back, but smiling to take any sting out of her words. "I should go to my bed. Good night, Your Highness."
"Good night," the prince said, bowing as he placed his hand over his heart.
Ella turned and walked away, feeling his eyes on her back as she closed the door behind her.
~
TWO weeks later, Ella and Shani stood on the shores of Lake Halapusa, looking down at the small pool of water they'd created off to the side of the lake itself. Ella held a book in her hand and was writing out equations, while Shani crouched down beside the pool and frowned.
A contingent of fifty Hazaran warriors guarded them. Ella had told Jehral she thought it excessive, but Jehral had simply shrugged and said the prince considered the two women too valuable to lose.
Ella heard the sound of hooves and looked up, seeing Jehral approach. His colour had returned in the last weeks and she was now pleased to see he was fully recovered.
"Salute, Ella," Jehral said.
"Ho, Jehral," Ella replied.
"I bring your response from the prince."
"Well? What did he say? How much essence can we have at our disposal?"
"The answer was vague. He said you can have as much as a horse can carry in its water bags, but no more. If you want a more specific answer, you will have to ask him yourself."
Ella looked at Shani. "Do you think it will be enough?" she asked.
"We will need more — perhaps twice as much. And it will only have a chance at working if we wait until after summer," Shani said. "Even then it will be close."
Ella looked up at Jehral. "Tell the prince something for me, Jehral, and this is important. Tell him we will open the way across the lake to Tlaxor, but we will have to wait until the season has changed. Tell Prince Ilathor we need more essence, as much as two horses can carry in their water bags, but that after the end of summer, we will help him take the city."
Jehral nodded, wheeling his horse, and rode away.
26
AMBER stuffed three dresses, a coat, and two blankets into a sack. She picked herself up, feeling the weight of her pregnancy pull at her back, and then left the small shelter she'd been given — a canvas tent, walled on three sides — walking around to the back. She dropped the sack on the ground, before once more returning to the tent.
Summer had come and gone, and soon the weather would turn cool again. The blankets and clothing could save someone's life, and most of the things the guards gave her she didn't need for herself. Amber knew the other prisoners distrusted her, and they would never take what she gave them if she offered, but if she left the sack outside, by morning it would be gone.
Life had settled in the prison camp — for Amber, at least. With Moragon believing she carried his child, Amber had received regular meals and been given her own shelter, however basic.
The other prisoners, particularly the women, called her terrible things, but Amber knew there was more to the story than they were aware of, and although she hated what she'd done, she had secured the life of her child. Her thoughts wandered. Could she ever tell Miro? Would he despise her, too? She pushed the thought to the side.
Once Moragon found out she was pregnant, he had made sure she was safe from harm, and then left her to her own devices. Amber knew he wasn't interested in her well-being, it was the son she might give him that was the source of his concern.
Amber felt the baby kick, and sighed. She was lonely, and she knew that with her relaxed conditions she could help her people more, if they would only let her. While she was now safe from being taken away to where dark rumours said they were committing unspeakable deeds, more people vanished every day.
The prisoners constantly wondered where they were taking them, speculating on who would be next. It was usually the old, the sickly and the weak, but sometimes it was those who tried to fight back. There were rumours, horrible rumours, that the templars were torturing them, or experimenting on them, or killing them and extracting essence from their bodies.
There were constant fresh arrivals, mainly people from Ralanast. The spirit had been crushed out of many in the prison camp, but Amber felt that with the right leadership, they might be able to fight back. The Alturans had even looked to Leopold to lead them, but he had gone mad since the death of his uncle, Tessolar, the old High Lord. There was no help there.
Amber stood and walked slowly around to stretch her legs, once more feeling the baby kick.
A tall Halrana woman a few years older than Amber walked in the opposite direction.
"Lina, can I speak with you a moment?" Amber asked.
"What is it?" Lina said shortly.
"You are caring for a child, a boy, aren't you?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"The guards give me oats, but I can't eat them," Amber lied, "they give me stomach problems. I could leave the bowl outside my tent in the mornings. Your boy could eat them. Do you think that would be all right?"
Lina nodded — a short, sharp gesture. "Fine. I'll… What's wrong?"
Amber suddenly fell, clutching Lina's shoulder for support. She waited, breathing slowly in and out, before it hit her again.
Amber looked up at Lina, fear written across her face. "I think I'm going into labour," she said.
Lina drew herself up. "Samora," she called to another woman, "go and fetch one of the guards. Don't worry," she addressed Amber, "you'll be fine."
"I'm scared," Amber said.
"I know you are. But what is happening is natural. People have been having babies for thousands of years."
Amber felt another contraction hit her, with the force of a kick in the stomach. "Lina, I have to tell you. It's my husband's child. He's dead. Moragon just thinks the child is his."
"Quiet," Lina hissed, looking around her in both directions. "Not another word, do you hear me? You stay silent about that. You're going to be fine. Let him continue to believe. You know it's the better way."
Amber nodded, grimacing against the pain. "I know."
Lina pinched Amber's arm. "The guards are here. They'll take you somewhere clean and safe." Lina leaned in close. "If you can get out of here, do it. Even if it means leaving the babe."
Amber groaned. Two men took her shoulder on either side, leading her through the camp.
Amber repeated Lina's words like a mantra. She was going to be fine.
~
JUST before dawn, in the dim light of the infirmary tent in the guards' quarters, Amber gave birth to a strong baby boy.
She lay back on the pallet, exhausted but happy. It was like some great weight had been taken from her, and given back to her in the form of pure joy. She held out her arms and spent the next hours in bliss, amazed by the delicacy of the baby's tiny features, in awe of the life she held at her breast.
He suckled almost immediately, feeding hungrily, gurgling and pawing, his eyes blue as the sky. Amber never wanted to let him go.
They took him from her sometime around mid-morning.
"Shh," said the Tingaran battlefield surgeon, a man more used to dealing with lost limbs than women. "He will have a wet-nurse. He won't go hungry."
"Please," Amber begged. "Please, don't take him away."
Her strength had given out, and they easily pried the baby away from her arms.
"High Lord Moragon wants to see his son," said the surgeon.
"No," Amber cried. "No!"
"Shh," the surgeon said again. "No one's going to send you off to the vats; you'll still be taken care of. But the camp is no place to raise a baby. You can see that, can't you?"
Tears rolled down Amber's cheeks. She watched the surge
on's departing back as he took her baby away, then slumped back down to her pallet, wondering how she was going to find the strength to go on.
The guards returned shortly and made her dress herself while they turned their backs. Amber was taken back to her tent, where she feared she would never see her baby again.
~
"I'M SORRY," Leopold said. "They took your baby."
Amber was taken aback when he spoke to her as she walked past; Leopold was surprisingly lucid today. She opened her mouth to respond, when suddenly she was overcome with emotion. Amber sank to the ground next to the former prince of Altura, her sobs accompanied by great wracking motions. Weeks had passed, but still she never knew when the grief would hit her.
"I don't blame you," Leopold said, making no move to comfort her. "There is no hope. This resistance will be crushed. Altura will soon fall."
Amber looked up. "What resistance?"
"They sent word to me," he said desultorily. "You know who Rogan Jarvish is, don't you? He's leading them, back in Ralanast."
"Blademaster Rogan?" Amber demanded. "Didn't he die at the Battle for Ralanast?"
"Apparently not." Leopold shrugged.
"Can you get word back to him?"
"I suppose so. One of the guards is a sympathiser," Leopold said. "He's in love with a Halrana woman, and doesn't want to go back to Seranthia."
"Can you tell me which guard?"
Leopold nodded, before returning to his contemplation of the dirt at his feet.
Amber stood up and straightened. She left Leopold behind and swiftly found Lina, Samora, and three other women, asking them to come to her tent.
She then sat inside the tent and pondered.
Amber knew who Rogan Jarvish was; every Alturan knew his name. And he was near, in Ralanast, barely half a day's walk from this prison camp!
The Halrana women arrived.
Without preamble, Amber spoke. "I've asked the five of you to come here because between you, you know many of the Halrana here, while I know most of the Alturans."
"What's this about?" Lina asked.
The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) Page 19