The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (25 page)

Then she had an idea. "The High Enchantress."

Looking around her, she realised the crowd had grown larger. There was general assent, relief at being able to pass on the burden.

"Of course," said the soldier. "She’s at the palace."

"Can we move him?" said the burly man.

"I don’t know," said the soldier.

"I studied at the Academy," Ella said briskly. "I’m sure it will be fine."

The soldier and the burly man lifted Killian’s prone figure, standing him up, one on either side. They started the walk to the palace, moving with great difficulty, Killian’s feet dragging on the ground.

More soldiers came to join them and eventually a stretcher was found. Ella couldn’t bear the sight of Killian’s dead white skin, his blue lips and limp form.

Ella never took her eyes off Killian, hovering behind the stretcher, wringing her hands. She didn’t even notice them enter the main palace gates. She was barely aware when the floor changed to polished marble. Ella only looked up when she felt a strong grip on her arm, pinching her flesh tightly.

"What have you done, you foolish girl?"

High Enchantress Evora Guinestor stood in front of her. She was furious. Ella had never felt so terrified in her life. The woman’s eyes blazed, and Ella realised how tall the woman was; the High Enchantress loomed over her.

"She said he was poisoned..." a soldier began.

The High Enchantress raised her hand. The soldier trailed off.

"I asked you what happened," Evora said. She never released the pressure on Ella’s arm. Ella felt her hand begin to go numb.

Ella still couldn’t take her eyes of Killian’s still body. "He… I… He found… Oh, Lord of the Sky, no… No!"

"Tell me!" The High Enchantress shook her.

"Essence. He found it. In my satchel. It was guarded, I swear. Oh, Lord of the Sky!"

Ella felt her world crashing down around her.

"Don’t you dare give out on me!" Evora said in a frigid voice. "What happened? How much went onto his skin? Where did it touch him?"

"His hand. He opened the bottle; he didn’t realise what it was. The boat, it hit the bank. Some went onto his hand. His arm as well. But he fell in the water straight away."

"Which hand? Which arm?"

"His right."

"How long was it on his skin, how soon did he fall in the water?"

"Right away, maybe the time it takes to take a breath."

The High Enchantress nodded, turning back to Killian. The prone figure lay cold and still on the stretcher in the palace corridor. She began to examine the skin of his hand and his arm, piece by piece. She suddenly ripped his shirt open, removing it to expose the muscles of his chest and the curls of his body hair. Aside from a small pendant on a chain, Killian now wore only his trousers. He looked strangely frail, cold. Ella would have thought he was dead, but for the rise and fall of his chest. The High Enchantress grunted inconclusively.

"High Enchantress?" Ella said. "Will he be all right? Did it wash off his skin? Did the cold do something?"

The High Enchantress looked up at Ella and her expression grew puzzled. "To be honest? I don’t know. I need to spend more time with him, to consult some books." Evora frowned down at Killian. "Do you see these marks?" She lifted his arm, displaying an ugly blue stain on Killian’s skin. "This is where the essence touched him. It always leaves these marks. But I do not know how he comes to still be alive, and what will happen next. It could be that the cold or the water did something to impede the poison’s progress."

"So he might recover?"

"He could return to full health with no further problems, or he could die as we speak."

"Dear Skylord," Ella whispered. The implications of had happened were finally starting to sink in.

"Wash him thoroughly, and take him to my sanctum," the High Enchantress instructed the palace guards. "You may leave now, young lady. I expect we’ll be speaking again soon enough."

"No, please, let me stay with him," Ella pleaded.

"Leave, at once. Guards!"

"No, let me stay with him!" Ella cried. "High Enchantress!"

The High Enchantress merely cast a scornful look over her shoulder as she walked away.

The soldiers forcibly carried Ella out of the palace, embarrassed for her. She kicked and fought with all of her strength, but her spirit finally left her as she stood at the Crystal Palace’s great doors. The guards watched her warily.

"Miss," one of the soldiers spoke.

"It’s all right. I’m leaving," Ella said.

22

Show humility to your neighbours and make friends of your enemies. People fight when they feel threatened. Show you are no threat and they will open their arms.

— The Evermen Cycles, 16-2

I
N
the end, the Alturan army’s decision was made for them. A Halrana messenger gave them the news, his face streaked with tears that carved a path through the grime on his skin.

Ralanast, the Halrana capital, had been conquered by the Black Army. The great city that had lasted through the Rebellion, where the spirit of Halaran could never be broken, was taken in a day.

The commanders were now faced with no choice but to try to link with the Ring Forts, to create a unified front in Halaran’s south and push forward, and try to retake the territory that had been lost so quickly.

Continuing eastward now, the army began to encounter small groups of Halrana soldiers and even partisan groups, locals who had been forced into hiding by the legion. Refugees brought horrific stories of butchery and pillage. The Alturan army passed them in their thousands, those who had lost everything and now had nothing.

The fleeing soldiers brought useful information on enemy numbers and capabilities. They said the black flag could now be seen across most of northern Halaran. It was now definite — the artificers had joined with the Emperor. The Black Army had now swallowed two houses.

Nothing had been heard from Vezna or Petrya. Perhaps they were still uncommitted. And still nothing had been heard from the Primate. None said it aloud, but all wondered why. The Primate and his templars in Aynar controlled the essence. He was the only one who could bring a swift end to the war.

No word had been received from the Halrana High Lord in some time. Their messages to Mornhaven, where High Lord Legasa waited in supposed strength, received no reply.

It was impossible to hide the fundamentals from the soldiers. The men felt terribly alone.

There had been some brief engagements, but nothing that could be called a battle. Some explosions in the night as their defences were tested. A quick skirmish with some of the legion, quickly decided in the Alturans’ favour.

Fortunately they hadn’t been surprised by the dirigibles again — they’d learned their lesson well. It was about the best thing that could be said, the only positive so far. Morale was low.

It was raining, a steady cold drizzle that seemed it would never stop. Miro, Ronell and Bartolo shared a cold meal under the branches of an alpin. It did little to ward off the rain, and Miro shivered.

"I can’t believe it took them that long to tell us," Ronell grunted.

"At least they did eventually," said Bartolo.

"Four days. Four days I’ve been walking around completely sodden."

"It could have been a week," said Bartolo.

It didn’t matter what they were talking about, Ronell and Bartolo always disagreed. Miro often had to act as mediator otherwise he was sure a fight would have broken out by now.

"What are you saying? You’d rather they didn’t tell us?" Ronell said.

Miro tried not to think about what he was eating. He just focussed on the action of bringing the spoon to his mouth and swallowing.

"No, of course not. I just think they’re not used to having people like us in the field, that’s all," Bartolo said.

"People like us?"

"You know what I mean,” Bartolo said, “recruits. We’re supposed to be in the Dunwood learning these things. Not here."

"If you can’t handle it, I’m sure they’ll let you go home," said Ronell.

"Hey! You were the one complaining just now!"

"Quit it, you two," said Miro. "They just forgot. That’s all."

One of the bladesingers, Huron Gower, probably the friendliest of the aloof bunch, had chuckled when he saw the sodden recruits one day.

"Try this," he had laughed, naming a sequence of runes. "Have some dignity and never fear, you’ll be bladesingers one day."

Since then they’d all glowed softly, the rain sliding off their armoursilk rather than wetting it through. It was a great improvement, to say the least. The rain still got under their clothing, still wet their hair and ran down their necks, but their enchanted garments stayed dry.

"Think of those poor guys," said Bartolo, indicating with his head.

They could hear it at all times, the pinging sound of the rain bouncing off the steel of the soldiers’ armour.

"What we need is action," said Miro. "We need to take the initiative instead of moving slowly through the forest, like a lumbering beast bashing its way through the undergrowth."

"What would you do?" said Ronell.

Bartolo interjected, "I’d get the Primate to cut off the Emperor’s essence, sit the High Lords down in a small room, and not let them come out until they’ve agreed we need a new Emperor."

"I know, I know," said Ronell. "Miro?"

The speed of Miro’s response made it clear he’d thought about it. "Attack. Take the initiative. I’d split the army and form a second, fast-moving force—"

"Bladesingers gather!" a voice called out. "Raiding party!"

"Be careful what you wish for," Ronell said soberly.

~

R
ONELL
glanced at Bartolo, who glanced at Miro.

They stood in a large circle. It was the way the bladesingers always held their meetings. Miro counted roughly seventy bladesingers, a lethal force but not a huge one. They stood impassively — weapons that had yet to be unleashed. The rain didn’t seem to bother them at all. They all glowed softly and the drops never seemed to touch them.

Blademaster Rogan waited until they were assembled and then spoke without preamble.

"A division of the legion is encamped inside a narrow gorge, Harlan’s Canyon, the Halrana call it. The scouts have reported they’re unaware of this army so close by.

"We can’t leave them at our backs. Prince Leopold has come up with a plan to bottle them up with a force at either end of the canyon. Bear in mind — the canyon is narrow. So narrow that it will be strength, rather than numbers that will win the day. That’s where we come in.

"The plan is to put an elite group at either end of the gorge. At one end will be the veterans, the most experienced of our soldiers, equipped with enchanted armour, shields, swords and spears. At the other end will be us, the bladesingers." He looked around steadily. "This army’s deadliest weapon."

"Altura!" the men growled, their voices deep.

Rogan continued. "After engagement, the more mobile of the two forces, the bladesingers, are to melt back into the valley, where the legion will pursue them and encounter the main force. The remainder of this army will lie in wait."

There was silence for a moment.

Bladesinger Porlen spoke up. A small man with wiry strength, he was one of the more vocal bladesingers. "This is not a good plan. You do not cage a beast."

"Care to be more specific?" Blademaster Rogan said.

"The legion’s backs will be against the wall. There is nowhere for them to run. You should always give your enemy an escape route."

"Prince Leopold’s plan is for them to have that escape route."

Porlen shook his head. "But not initially. They will see fierce enemies on all sides. They will fight like demons, for they will see it is a fight to the death."

"All the more reason for us to follow the plan to the letter, then."

Porlen just shook his head, murmuring to one of his fellows.

Rogan spoke for some time more, outlining the further details. "We leave at dusk. It’s three hours journey, so get some rest now. When the moon rises, we will light a beacon, attached to a small dirigible. This is the signal to attack. That is all."

Miro could tell by the Blademaster’s tone that he didn’t believe in the plan either. On the face of it, it seemed good — the chance to wipe out an entire division of the legion — but the risk was there for all to see. It was dangerous.

Ronell grumbled when they returned to the remains of their meal. "I don’t like the sound of this."

Around them, Miro could hear the common soldiers talking to each other, sharing their fear. The bladesingers radiated confidence, but the general mood of the men was crucial.

Miro projected composure he didn’t feel. "Our part will be simple — to draw the imperials back to the main force. As long as we make that our goal and do nothing brave — and by brave I mean foolish — we’ll be fine."

"How close behind us will the main Alturan army be? How long will we have to lead the enemy?"

Miro shrugged. "I don’t know. We move a lot quicker than the main force, so perhaps an hour?"

"An hour!"

"Or it could be less."

"Or more," grinned Bartolo. Miro shot him a dirty look.

"Yes, or more."

"Lord of the Sky," Ronell muttered.

Miro knew Ronell was just voicing his nerves, the fear they all felt. They said nothing more as they settled in to get some sleep.

None of them did.

23

Do not merely give lip-service to the Evermen. Give yourself in your heart. Serve the poor and the needy. The greatest threat to the future is indifference.

— Sermons of Primate Melovar Aspen, 538 Y.E.

"Q
UIET
. Do you hear something?" Bartolo said.

A small hare burst out of the bushes. Ronell’s runes flared brightly as he instantly responded with an activation sequence.