“Those ain’t Tanthflame’s men,” said Endred. “They’re Erastatian soldiers. Look at the uniforms.”
“You think Windscoure’s fixin’ to fight the Imperials?” asked Iako.
“No,” Seba whispered. “He’s working with them.”
“What the blood does he need two armies for?”
“I don’t know,” she said, because she felt it would have been melodramatic to say, To invade the Fironem. She could think of no other reason the legions would be sitting at the walled-off border of the southern kingdom. The odd interchange she’d witnessed between Windscoure and Tanthflame returned to her, layered with new and sinister meaning.
“What we gonna do now?” asked Iako.
“Proceed with our backup plan,” said Cezon, heeling his horse and heading for the cover of a rocky ridge.
Seba was somewhat relieved to know there was a backup plan. She hadn’t pegged Cezon for someone who thought that far ahead. But her relief was short-lived, because it transpired that Cezon’s backup plan consisted of nothing more than waiting until it was fully dark and sneaking across the border.
“You’re going to get us caught and killed,” she hissed as he turned the horses loose.
“We’ll be fine as long as you stop runnin’ your smart mouth.”
Together they crept along the narrow hilltop and made their way through a patch of chest-high weeds into the valley. The Erastatian army was settling down for the night. Watchfires flickered between the tents and a handful of men patrolled the perimeters.
With Cezon leading the way, Seba and the others crawled toward the barricades. He stopped when he reached one of the large wooden pikes. The wires strung between the pylons had wickedly sharp barbs. He squinted at the bottom wire, then rummaged in his pack and produced a heavy clipper tool.
“Why in the world are you lugging that around?” Seba wanted to know.
“So I can snip off people’s fingers if I need to torture ’em,” he explained, hunkering down to work. She wasn’t sure if he was being serious, and decided not to pursue that line of questioning.
Cezon touched the tool to the metal. With a loud crack, electric blue sparks shot out of the wire. He was thrown back with the force of the miniature explosion, and the unpleasant odor of burnt hair reached Seba’s nose.
“What was that?” The noise and the sudden burst of light had alerted two Erastatians on patrol. Seba’s stomach clenched and she bit her lip, readying herself for what was sure to be a very unpleasant fight.
Suddenly a marsh grouse burst from the vegetation a few heights away, flapping frantically into the night.
“Eh, just another bird run into the wires,” said one soldier.
“Why can’t they do that during the day?” his companion grumbled, stumping back to the camp. “Scares me half to death when it happens.”
Once the soldiers were out of earshot, Endred crept over to Cezon’s prone form. “Oy, Cez. You alright?”
“Hrng,” said Cezon. Endred helped him into a sitting position. His hair was standing on end and he looked distinctly singed. “They got a bloody voltmagic spell on it or somethin’. Lousy tronkin’ bilge rats, the lot of ’em!”
“Shh.” Endred produced a rag from his pocket and handed it to Cezon, who used it to wipe grime and sweat from his face. He tossed the rag aside and, with difficulty, hauled himself back to the barricade.
“Right,” he muttered. “These wires ain’t spaced too far apart, but I reckon we’ll fit through.”
“I en’t goin’ through there,” said Iako. “What if I touch ’em? I’ll be burned to cinders, I will!”
“Which is why I’m gonna coat ’em with magic, you lagwit,” Cezon snarled, cuffing Iako on the ear. The Galantrian man let out a yelp and lunged at Cezon to retaliate.
Endred grabbed him by the scruff of his robes to hold him back. “Stop it, the both of you, else the guards’ll be back.”
“Mind you, I dunno if this’ll work,” said Cezon. “I can make two sheets of air and bend the wires outta the way so we can squeeze between ‘em.”
“Will they spark again if you touch them with magic?” asked Seba, staring dubiously at the metal strips. Voltmagic was incredibly rare, and though a few things in the Galantrian Palace made use of its enigmatic energy, she knew nothing of how it worked.
“Only one way to find out.” Cezon cracked his knuckles and raised his hands. The long grasses stirred as his air spell swirled to life. He screwed up his face and, cringing, slowly wielded.
Seba braced herself for another electric explosion, but it didn’t come. The bottom wire sank, pressed down by an invisible force. A slow breath of relief hissed through her teeth.
Cezon smirked as he turned to Seba. “Ladies first.”
Seba gathered the courage to inch closer to the wires. She knew she had the insulation of the air spell to protect her, but it was altogether an unsettling experience. She reached for the other side with shaking hands and slid herself through the small gap. Her back brushed against something smooth—the solidified air, no doubt—but it made her heart race, and she hauled herself out, landing on the ground with a soft thump.
Endred came next. Seba saw the wires contorting around his bulk as he crawled through, protected by nothing more than a thin layer of air-threads. When he had safely joined her, it was Iako’s turn. Cezon went last, dropping his spell as soon as he was clear of the metal. Bent double, the four of them fled.
“All things considered, that was pretty easy,” Cezon commented.
“Right, and that tells us something important,” said Endred. “Those barricades ain’t there to keep Windscoure’s army out. It’s to keep the Fironians in.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“If air wielders can get through so easy, then it ain’t there to keep air wielders away.” He glanced at Seba. “In the palace, did you see or hear anything that might tell what Windscoure was plannin’ for the Fironem?”
“No, but after seeing those armies together, I’m positive Windscoure is working with Tanthflame. They’re plotting something. Maybe a coup of the empire, starting with the Fironem, where . . .”
“Where historically, Necrovar was strongest,” Endred finished, his voice heavy. “They’re workin’ on the Shadow’s orders, it would seem.”
“So it would,” Seba agreed faintly, sickness roiling worse than ever in her gut.
When they were far enough from the border, they slowed and straightened. Seba knuckled her aching back and stared around. A second sooner or later and she would have missed it. She caught a metallic flash in the light of the rising moons.
“Duck,” she cried, grabbing Endred’s arm and pulling him into a crouch. Something sailed over their heads, landing in the grass behind them.
“Whassat?” Cezon was on guard at once. He raised his fists in a fighting stance and hopped around, staring wildly into the night. “Who’s there?”
“It’s alright,” Endred called. He raised one hand and fire flared to life above his palm. “I’m Fironian!”
“What are you doing?” snapped Cezon. “You’ll lead ’em right to us!
“If they’re shootin’ at us, they already know we’re here.”
Seba happened to agree with Cezon—she didn’t think luring their attackers closer was wise—but it was already too late. Five tall figures had risen from the grass and were loping toward them.
“Oh, for Zumarra’s sake.” She pulled the cowl of her cloak over her hair. “Didn’t I tell you we’d be caught and killed?”
“We ain’t been killed yet,” said Endred.
The group of men came to a stop. Seba nervously tugged her cowl down further, trying to hide her distinctive nose.
“What are you doing this close to the border?” one of them asked.
“Sightseeing,” growled Cezon. Endred
elbowed him in the ribs and he let out a winded grunt.
“We’re tryin’ to reach Fyrxav,” Endred told the newcomers.
“Where’d you come from?” asked another man. He was holding a crossbow with an arrow ready to fly. “The rest of you don’t look Fironian. Let’s see you wield.”
Seba stifled a groan. Under other circumstances she was sure Cezon’s crew could take this group in a fight, but they were exhausted and malnourished. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to fight fire wielders while they were standing in a dry field of easy tinder, either.
“Alright, I’ll level with you,” said Endred, stepping forward before Cezon could do anything. “These lot are outlanders, but I need to bring ’em to Indrath Nazrith. This young lady” —he pointed at Seba and she hunched her shoulders, praying he wouldn’t reveal her identity— “has business there.”
“Yeah? What sorta business would bring an outlander to the capital?” sneered a lanky fellow. “We’ve been authorized to kill spies, you know.”
“Sure,” Endred said in his slow, easy voice. “I get it, you need to be careful, want to protect the homeland. I’m the same way. I wouldn’t be bringin’ her anywhere near King Embersnag if she was dangerous. I’ll strike you a bargain—if you want to take us in and bring us to the palace, we’ll go with you peacefully.”
“Why would we bother bringing you to the palace when we could kill you here and be done with it?”
Endred hesitated. His dark eyes flickered toward Seba and she shook her head, silently pleading with him not to do it.
“Cause this is the Princess of the Galantasa.”
Seba closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from screaming.
“She’s the one what got kidnapped a few months back,” said Endred. “The Imperial government’s been lookin’ for her, and there’s a big reward for her safe return. If you help us bring her to the king, we’ll split the reward money with you. Surely you’ve seen the wanted posters? Go on, Your Grace,” he added, nodding at Seba. “Take off your hood, it’s alright.”
Fuming, Seba grudgingly did as she was told. It was the only card they had in their hand, and Endred had played it—but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
As she’d feared, the men recognized her. Their eyes blazed with interest and they huddled close together, conversing in dark whispers.
“Change of plans,” said the first man. “We’ll take you to Fyrxav—but we keep the reward money for our trouble, and for agreeing not to kill you.”
“What?!” Cezon began in tones of outrage, but Endred trod on his foot to shut him up.
“Very generous of you,” he said. “We accept your terms.”
“Our camp is this way,” the man informed them, gesturing. His cohorts spread out to surround Seba, Cezon, Endred, and Iako. “We’ll leave at dawn.”
Cezon leaned toward Endred and said in a furious undertone, “What have you gotten us into, you clodhopper?”
Endred ignored Cezon and looked at Seba. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
She sighed. She knew what Endred was hoping, and she was hoping it too: that her presence would be enough to get them safely to Fyrxav, and that King Embersnag would give them sanctuary.
She recalled the vision of Max and Keriya in the dungeons. A shiver ran through her, though the night was warm. She’d walked into the Erastatian palace as royalty and had become a prisoner.
She hoped she wasn’t about to walk into the same trap in the Fironem.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“In the dark, all wyrms are dragons.”
~ Daigathi Proverb
“Roxanne?”
Roxanne roused herself and opened her eyes. Rubbing her neck, she glared through the bars of her jail cell at her visitor. “Remembered me, have you?”
“You’re sleeping on the floor,” Effrax observed, frowning at her. “I had a cot and sheets sent. Didn’t you get them?”
“I did,” she said in a falsely sweet voice. She pointed to the next cell over, where the splintered remnants of the cot and a heap of shredded sheets lay in a messy pile. “They weren’t to my liking.”
Effrax shook his head in exasperation. “I tried to make you comfortable.”
“Doesn’t seem like you tried very hard,” she said, all trace of sweetness gone. “You’ve got some nerve coming here. You betray me, imprison me, torture me—”
“Torture?” Effrax repeated.
“Yeah, your pal Blazecair—he’s a real piece of work,” she growled. “He’s been poisoning my food.”
“No, he hasn’t.”
“Oh, yes he has. I know it’s not evasdrin anymore because I’ve been able to sense my magic for days, but he’s done something horrible to me. Every time I try to wield, I get a splitting headache and I can’t continue.”
To her surprise, Effrax smiled. “Have you been attempting to wield to break yourself out?”
“Obviously,” she snapped.
“That’s not poison, it’s the dungeon enchantment. I told Blazecair in no uncertain terms that your safety is my highest priority.”
“I doubt he cares for your empty threats.”
“They aren’t empty threats, they’re the law. Tanthflame left. With him gone and my family dead . . .” His voice broke, and he paused to compose himself. “I’m officially king.”
Roxanne worked her jaw in shock. When she found her tongue, she whispered, “You’re king? You’re the king of the Fironem . . . and you left me to rot here?!”
“I was working to rid the city of the shadowbeasts—”
“I don’t care if you were working to kill Necrovar himself. You had the power to free me but you kept me locked up!”
“I’m not going to pretend I’m a good king,” he said, his quiet voice a stark contrast to Roxanne’s shouts. “I’ve done bad things to save the Fironem, things I’ll never be able to atone for. But please believe me when I say that everything I did was to keep you safe. Today we destroyed the last remaining shadowbeasts in Fyrxav. So I’m here to apologize, to beg your forgiveness, and to set you free.”
He produced a key from a pocket of his tunic and fitted it into the lock. With a soft click, the cell door creaked inwards on rusty hinges.
Roxanne got to her feet with difficulty, straightening her stiff joints. She took a few cautious steps toward the door.
“It’s no trick, Tigress,” he assured her.
She barely stifled a derisive snort. While they’d traveled together she’d grown . . . well, not fond of Effrax, but against her better judgement she had come to trust him. That trust had evaporated the moment he’d accepted Tanthflame’s offer. She didn’t care if he’d done it as part of a grand scheme to depose the commander-general, or to become king, or to protect her. As soon as she was free of this dungeon and she got her wielding back, she had a mind to wring Effrax’s traitorous neck.
Suddenly a sharp pain seared across the inside of her skull. She gasped and staggered, holding her hands to her head. Her body felt leaden, like she was swimming through thick mud instead of walking across her cell.
“No,” she rasped, sinking to her knees. She had become well acquainted with this feeling: it was the migraine that prevented her from using her magic. “I haven’t even tried to wield!”
With a swirl of his cape, Effrax was at her side. He crouched and laid one hand on her brow. With the other hand, he placed two fingers on her neck, below her jaw. She slapped his hands away and was rewarded with another stab of blinding pain.
She must have lost consciousness, because when she next opened her eyes she was staring at a bright blue sky. Frowning, she looked around. She was in the sandy courtyard of the annex. The palace loomed to her left and Effrax knelt beside her.
“What did you to do me?” Her voice was thin and weak.
“You got hit with the enchantment tha
t’s woven into the dungeon—again,” he said, his lips quirking. “It’s an extremely clever lifemagic spell that measures the intent of each person imprisoned. If you intend to do harm to the king or go against his wishes, it will incapacitate you. That’s why it was the safest place for you to stay. No shadowbeast could have gotten in there, nor could anyone who wanted to disobey my edict and hurt you.”
Roxanne pushed herself up on her elbows. Effrax produced a flask of water and offered it to her.
“Drink. We’re safe—as safe as we can be in a world on the brink of war.”
Loath though she was to accept, she was parched. She grabbed the flask and drank deeply.
“This doesn’t make up for what you did,” she told him when she’d finished. While he wasn’t directly responsible for the agony she’d experienced over the past week, it was his fault that she’d been in the dungeon to begin with.
“Would this help?” He pulled out a cloth napkin and unwrapped it to reveal a fresh, warm cinnamon roll. He waved it under her nose. Roxanne’s mouth watered and she was tempted to smile.
No; she must remain furious. Effrax was still a traitor . . . albeit a charming one.
“Doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she said, snatching the roll. She bit into it and savored the sweet sting of spice on her tongue.
“Then I will fight to redeem myself in your eyes. Anything you ask for, if it is within my power to grant it, it shall be yours,” he promised.
“I’d like a bath, a proper meal, and a good night’s sleep,” she said through a full mouth.
“Ah.” Effrax’s face fell.
A pang of alarm shot through Roxanne. “What now?”
“Nothing—of course, you’re entitled to all of that. We’ve prepared the finest chambers for you and there’s a feast waiting in the dining hall, but I was hoping you could do me a favor first.”
This time she couldn’t stifle her incredulous snort.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I won’t force you to help if you don’t want to,” he added. “It’s just that Seba arrived late last night, and I’d like you to accompany me when I meet her.”
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