The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (24 page)

"Just get more!"

The officer took the basket from his hands. Miro, turning, felt a grip on his arm. "Bladesinger?"

"Yes?"

"Your song."

Miro realised his armoursilk had grown limp, the runes faded. His heart thudded as he thought about how close he’d come to the explosions.

"Thank you."

On the run back, Miro learned something. He learned that if running with a basket was hard, running while exhaustedly chanting a series of complex runes was very, very hard.

"Lord of the Sky, are you all right?" Ronell said.

"More," Miro panted. "We need more. Orbs. For the mortars. Help."

Ronell and Bartolo looked at each other. "Where do we find them?"

It became a nightmare of running and barely-missed explosions. Miro chanted as he ran, the glowing armoursilk saving his life more than once, the other two recruits following his lead.

Then he felt the atmosphere change as the Alturans began to fight back.

Great bursts of flame flared against the sky, again and again. A dirigible went up in flames, still in the air, its occupants screaming.

The Alturans cheered.

As the orbs found their way to the mortar teams the frequency of the explosions in the sky increased. Soon two more dirigibles were down, and another partly destroyed, fleeing as smoke poured from its cabin. The remaining pilots decided they had taken their best shots — and fled.

~

T
HE
army struggled to pull itself together. They had lost thousands of men, workers, and valuable supplies. The question on everyone’s lips was the same — how had this happened?

The officers gathered the column and they made camp on the outskirts of a forest, where they hoped the rocky hills nearby and thick treetops would help prevent another attack.

The enchanters didn’t have the skills of builders, but were able to construct some rune-covered fortifications and alert systems — tall towers encircling the camp, giving the soldiers a much-needed feeling of protection.

The huge command tent was raised in the centre of the camp, a circle of bladesingers providing one level of protection, a series of activated sentry devices providing another.

Miro was posted with the circle of bladesinger guards, some kind of reward for the exertions of the day, he supposed.

The loud voices of the commanders were audible to all. Prince Leopold’s cultured accent was a crisp contrast to Marshal Sloan’s rasping soldier’s voice and Blademaster Rogan’s baritone.

"We have to face the possibility that the Ring Forts have been overrun," said Marshal Sloan.

"That’s impossible!" said Prince Leopold.

"Then how do you explain what happened today?" said Sloan.

"I don’t know!"

"Then guess," said Blademaster Rogan.

There was no response.

"The fact is, we need more information,” Sloan said. “I’ve dispatched runners to Mornhaven and Sark, hopefully that will give us some answers, but until then, we need a plan of action."

"What do you recommend?"

"This is a good position; we should dig in here. At the least, it will give us a chance to redefine our tactics and gather information. We can’t let another disaster like today happen again. We were completely unprepared."

"That’s because we’re supposed to be under the protection of the Ring Forts!" Leopold said.

"I know that!" said Sloan. "But it shouldn’t have happened. If we’d been marching in proper order we would have saved lives."

Rogan Jarvish spoke, "We all failed here. We know now we can’t make assumptions. From now on we must treat the situation as if we’re in enemy territory, rather than friendly lands. And we must face the fact that the Ring Forts may no longer be under our control."

"I can’t believe they’ve been overrun," Leopold said.

"There’s always betrayal," said Rogan. "It’s happened before."

"Let’s not jump to conclusions," said Marshal Sloan. "At this stage we simply don’t know."

~

W
HEN
the news arrived, it was completely unexpected. The Ring Forts had not been overrun.

It was much, much worse.

"I still don’t understand," said Ronell, frowning into the glow of a nightlamp.

They had all heard the same rumours, and finally one of the bladesingers had explained it clearly to the recruits. Miro didn’t know whether Ronell was being stubborn or really couldn’t understand. He sat down next to Ronell, Bartolo on the other side.

"The Ring Forts line the eastern Halrana border with Torakon," said Bartolo.

"I know that." Ronell scowled.

"…and the builders of Torakon are old allies of the imperial house. For example in the Rebellion, the builders gave the Emperor passage through their lands."

"Which is what happened here?"

Bartolo spoke forcefully, "No. This war is different, the builders and the imperial legion are acting as one. They’ve effectively become one house, and the Torak High Lord has given the Emperor their Lexicon."

"Yes, and no one knows why. I know all that."

Bartolo continued, "Everyone expected the Black Army to attack the Ring Forts, the same way the Emperor did during the Rebellion. But the Halrana also share a northern border with Loua Louna, the land of the artificers."

Miro thought again of the artificers — crafty merchants and masters of lore, eternally neutral, hungry for gilden, and never directly taking part in war. He still couldn’t believe it himself.

In a completely unexpected move, the Emperor had driven an army of the imperial legion deep into Louan territory and straight into the capital of Mara Maya. They’d stayed there only long enough to re-supply before driving further.

The legion had then taken the towns of Carnathion and Norcia. They never stood a chance.

And now the Black Army was encamped outside Ralanast, capital of Halaran.

It came as a complete shock. Raj Loua Louna, who were neutral in every conflict and existed only for wealth, had been overrun. No one attacked the artificers, for without the tools of war no war could be won.

The commanders of the Alturan army could see only three options: either the Emperor was so confident of victory he was willing to marginalise every neutral house, or he was executing some brilliant tactic that could not yet be understood, or he was mad. For the Ring Forts still lay unconquered, the armies of Altura and Halaran undefeated.

Then came the worst news of all. It appeared Loua Louna had taken on the white and black standard; the Louans had joined forces with the Emperor.

Indecisive, uncertain, the army of Altura lay encamped, waiting for some sign of what to do next.

Should they try to link with the armies at the Ring Forts? Or should they head for Ralanast, to try to rescue their ally’s capital from certain destruction.

The commanders spent their days arguing. The men spent their nights shivering. They felt defeated, and they had yet to face their enemy.

21

Every time history repeats itself, the price goes up.

— Memoirs of Emperor Xenovere I, 286-2, 381 Y.E.

T
HE
small pleasure skiff made its way ponderously down the Sarsen, requiring only the gentlest of paddling to stay on its course. Ella leaned against the rail and watched the world sliding past, like some grand play following the theme of nature’s beauty.

Ice had built up along the riverbanks where the water was more sluggish, and Ella wore a heavy shawl against winter’s chill. People generally spent their time indoors now — there was certainly enough to do. Ella’s hands were growing calloused from holding a scrill and her satchel containing the tools of her trade was always by her side now.

It was the first occasion she’d had to see Killian since the night out in the Woltenplats, but somehow she knew their time was coming to an end. He’d had been waiting outside the Crystal Palace. He always seemed so fascinated by it; it had become the one place she knew she might find him and she always included it on her walks.

Ella didn’t ask him where he’d been and made no mention of their time together, their kiss. She had made the suggestion to take out a boat on the river. Killian had seemed a little hesitant, given the frigid weather, but he’d agreed readily enough.

He’d had one more thoughtful look at the palace before moving away with her, smiling, the way he always was.

However it hadn’t been the way Ella had expected. Killian seemed pensive and distracted. They hadn’t been close — in fact they’d barely touched. He’d helped her into the boat, always polite, but that was it.

Killian sat a few paces from her, the paddle in his hand. His blue eyes seemed a pale grey in the low winter light and he wore a thin shirt and trousers, seemingly unaware of the cold.

Ella could see the Long Bridge approaching, with the Runebridge behind it, signalling the end. The Crystal Palace sparkled, glowing softly. The High Lord had decided to leave the palace lights permanently activated to improve morale. All it served was to remind Ella of the war, that her brother was out there somewhere. She worried about Miro constantly.

Ella heard the sound of Killian putting down his paddle. She could see him playing with something out of the corner of her eye, but she wasn’t sure what.

Ella turned. He’d been idly looking through her satchel, curious. Ella’s breath caught. She was sure she had sealed her satchel, locking it with an enchantment only she could break. How could he have opened it?

"What’s this?" he said.

Killian held a small crystal bottle in one hand. The bottle was intricately designed, like a small jewel.

Ella’s heart skipped a beat. The bottle was filled with an oily, black liquid.

It was Ella’s bottle of essence, the gift she’d received at graduation.

Killian held the stopper in his other hand. He’d removed it, peering down at the liquid in the bottle.

Ella turned white. "Killian. Listen to me. Listen to me very, very carefully."

"What? What is it?"

"Do not move. Don’t move one little bit. I’m going to come over to you."

The river was so placid before. Now Ella was acutely aware of every tiny jolt the skiff made, the smallest rocking. Lord of the Sky, they would have to be in a boat!

Ella started to move in the skiff, and then stopped when her movements caused the boat to rock too much. Killian had a strange expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"Killian, I need you to very, very carefully put the stopper back in the bottle."

"I don’t understand?"

"Please!" she cried, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "Just put the stopper back in the bottle."

Ella looked up and saw the shore coming at them. Fast.

It happened all at once. Ella screamed as the boat bumped hard against the river bank.

The bottle was at an angle, Killian midway through replacing the stopper. Ella watched in horror as the black liquid spilled out, running, dripping down Killian’s hand.

He dropped the bottle. Time slowed to a snail’s pace. Ella stared in horror at the essence splattered on Killian’s arm.

An expression of shock and surprise on his face, Killian staggered with the rocking of the skiff. He stumbled and lurched backward.

Ella watched as he fell into the frigid waters of the Sarsen. Killian’s body landed in the water with a splash, and began to sink out of sight.

"Killian!" Ella screamed.

Ella leapt out of the boat and onto the bank, peering into the dark water, looking for any trace, any flash of skin or clothing.

Gathering herself, Ella threw off her shawl. She took a breath, and dove into the icy water, head first.

It was like being pierced again and again with tiny sharp knives. Pure pain was driven through Ella’s body and inside her head. Her teeth clacked together, nearly biting her tongue in two. The wind was driven from her lungs and she took a deep involuntary breath, choking and spluttering on the chill water of the Sarsen.

Fortunately, Ella found him almost immediately, her arm brushing against some part of his body. She grabbed at Killian and missed, then rose to the surface. Quickly taking a breath, Ella ducked under again, feeling ahead with her arms.

Ella touched something soft and grabbed Killian by the hair, pulling, and as he rose she reached forward again and took hold of his arm. Kicking with her legs, and with heavy strokes of her free arm, Ella finally breached the surface, taking a painful, gasping breath.

Some townsfolk were on the bank, attracted by the commotion.

"Take him under the arms!" Ella yelled.

A burly man took hold of first one of Killian’s arms, then the other, until finally he had a grip under Killian’s armpits. He heaved; Killian wasn’t a small man. The burly man’s face grew red and with a great effort he pulled, then fell backward. Killian rolled with him to lie motionless on the bank.

Ella coughed in the water and felt another man reach for her arm. She linked arms with him and he helped her climb out of the river.

Shuddering and wheezing Ella immediately lurched over to Killian’s prone figure. He lay on his back, his lips blue. He was deathly still.

"What happened?" someone said.

"Essence poisoning," Ella gasped.

Immediately they all drew back, fearfully checking their skin and clothing.

"What do we do?" the burly man said, sitting up. He had the courage, at least, not to back away.

"I don’t know," Ella cried. "I don’t know!"

They were close enough to the Crystal Palace that one of the soldiers approached. "What’s happening here?"

"She says he was poisoned by essence." The burly man pointed at Ella.

The soldier frowned. "Shouldn’t he be dead then?"

The burly man shrugged. "Maybe the water? The cold? Do you know?"

All attention was on the soldier. He backed away, his hands spread. "How would I know?"

Ella felt time running swiftly. She shivered, rocking back and forth. Someone offered her a coat but she ignored them.