Alliance (17 page)

They parted company at the bottom of the Eyrie steps, Jaken going to the kitchens in search of food, and Selene going in the direction of the guestrooms. Nykin headed down the passageways to the quarters he shared with Ryneq and hoped his king hadn’t yet left for his meeting.

R
YNEQ
STOOD
atop the inner wall surrounding the lower town, Nysad and Peros at his side, as they watched the dragons retreat back to the Eyrie. Seeing his army fight and not be able to join them was hard. As king, it was Ryneq’s duty to lead, not stand behind the safety of an elven barrier while his people risked their lives. Knowing that one of those fighting was Nykin made it almost unbearable.

Thank the Gods it was over, and from what he could make out, all of his riders had returned in one piece. For one heart-stopping moment, he’d thought they were in trouble. The distance made it difficult to be certain, but they’d all seen the dragons in Eldin’s group falter in the sky. Whatever caused it had apparently stopped, and now the dragons were safely behind the barrier again.

The camp beyond the wall was a blur of activity; the dragons’ attack had been more successful than Ryneq had hoped for. Four out of the ten catapults were now beyond saving—the flames reaching high into the sky—and Ryneq could smell the smoke from here. Somehow Seran’s men had managed to douse the fire on the fifth, but with any luck it too was out of action. If everything went according to plan, which Ryneq was well aware never usually happened, then they could destroy all of them before the barrier failed, taking away at least one of Seran’s advantages.

“Sire.” Nysad pointed to where the arrows from the Torserian archers vanished into thin air. “It appears they have a shield of their own.”

Ryneq cursed under his breath, frowning as the arrows that had previously been very successful in picking off the enemy soldiers surrounding the catapults, now never even reached their targets. The witch must be regaining her power. Ryneq hoped she wouldn’t try to attack again soon. His riders and their dragons needed time to rest and regroup. Somehow he doubted that was in the cards. “Call the archers off. There’s no point wasting arrows.”

Nysad yelled out the order and listened for it to be repeated down the lines until all bows were stored away. “I’m going to check in with Glaevahl and the others,” he said, already heading for the stone steps cut into the side of the wall, “to make sure the barrier is still intact.”

Ryneq followed after him. “Meet me in the war room as soon as you’re done here.”

“Yes, Sire.” Nysad paused at the bottom of the steps, then bowed and set off in the direction of the outer wall and the elves.

Two of his personal guards, Peros and Talis, accompanied Ryneq back to the palace. As soon as he stepped through the heavy wooden doors, he began to unstrap his body armor and handed it off to his guards. He’d worn his battle armor, heavier than what he wore on horseback, and the relief from taking it off was instant. Ryneq rolled his shoulders, stretching out the muscles, as he walked down the passageway to the war room.

The room was empty when he arrived. His guards remained stationed outside the door, and everyone else was busy with the aftermath of the attack. The fire glowed brightly, already lit with the onset of dusk, and Ryneq paused in front of it, letting the warmth wash over him.

The door creaked open, and Ryneq’s head snapped up in time to see Nykin smile in obvious relief at finding him in there.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, closing the door behind him with a soft
click
. “I went back to our quarters, but—”

Ryneq didn’t let him get any further than that. He marched across the room in three long strides, then took Nykin’s face in his hands and backed him up against the door. His skin felt cold under Ryneq’s touch, the effect of the wind still evident, and the barest hint of stubble tickled his palms.

Nykin slipped his hands around Ryneq’s waist and settled them on his hips with his thumbs tucked under the bottom of Ryneq’s jacket. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t have time for words anyway. The rest of Ryneq’s council would arrive soon enough.

Ryneq rested their foreheads together, breathing in the scent of outside and magic, which Nykin always carried after riding Fimor. He drew it deep inside, the familiarity calming his nerves, until finally he pulled back a little, but only far enough to meet Nykin’s gaze. His blue eyes looked sharp, alive, the adrenaline from the attack still coursing through him. A hint of worry clouded his features, though, and it only got worse the longer Ryneq looked at him.

“What’s the matter?” He stepped back fully and cast a furtive look over Nykin’s body to check for injury. He’d assumed all the riders had escaped unscathed, but maybe he’d been mistaken. Or perhaps one of the dragons….

Nykin let out a deep sigh, his whole body slumping back against the door, as though he didn’t know quite where to begin. “We shielded the others as best we could, but the dragons were still hit with arrows.” Ryneq wanted to interrupt, to ask which dragons were hurt and how badly, but Nykin shook his head. “They weren’t badly hurt. Dragon hide is too thick for them to penetrate too deeply, but the arrows were
enchanted
.” He paused and ran a hand over his eyes, and Ryneq had to bite his tongue to stop from shaking Nykin in irritation. “When we turned to head back to the Eyrie after the attack, the arrows… they… the witch tore them back out with magic and called them back to her.”

Ryneq stared at him, sensing he was missing the point as Nykin returned his gaze, pointedly waiting for Ryneq to understand. His mind sifted through everything Nykin had said. Ignoring the fact that her magic had obviously restored far quicker than the elves had predicted, why would she want the arrows back?

And then he understood, the realization sitting like lead in his belly. “The blood.”

“Yes,” Nykin added softly. “The arrows were covered in dragon’s blood.”

They both startled at the knock on the door. Nykin hastily moved out of the way, and Ryneq pulled it open to find Peros standing there.

“Sire.” He gestured behind him where Eldin marched down the passageway toward them.

“Thank you, Peros.” He clapped him on the arm. “Send the others straight in when they arrive.” Peros nodded and stepped aside to let Eldin pass when he reached the door.

“Sire.” Eldin looked pale and drawn, and Ryneq immediately pulled out a chair and made him sit in it. “Thank you.” He looked between Nykin and Ryneq. “I assume you know about the arrows?”

“Yes.” Ryneq took the chair at the head of the table, with Nykin sitting next to Eldin. “Were there any casualties?”

Eldin shook his head. “The arrows tore on their way out, but the dragons are already healing.”

“Were there any aftereffects from the magic?” Nykin asked, leaning forward to rest on the table. He had a dark look on his face, and Ryneq wondered if he was remembering his own run-in with the witch.

“No, there doesn’t appear to be. Thank the Gods.”

Ryneq didn’t want to sound callous, but he needed to ask. “How long will they take to recover? Now that we know we can cause some damage, I want to take advantage of every opportunity that arises, and that might be sooner than we would like.”

“Nykin can lead his riders in the next attack, as they will be the freshest. I will of course provide them with as much cover as possible, as they did for us.” He glanced at Nykin, nodding slightly in thanks, and Ryneq felt a surge of pride rush through him. “Vashek thinks his wounds will heal fully within a day, but he’s still able to fly in the meantime.” He paused, as though choosing his words carefully. “There were a lot of arrows, Sire. If the witch manages to collect blood from them, do we have any idea of what she’ll be capable of?”

No, they didn’t. And that was one of the most terrifying aspects of this whole thing. Ryneq knew how to fight an army, had studied how to plan an attack and battle men, but the witch was an unknown. She was powerful enough at the moment, but they had no idea what would happen now she had dragon’s blood at her disposal. He hoped Glaevahl and the others would have some answers when they arrived.

He smiled grimly. “Whatever it is, it’ll mean trouble for us.”

Silence fell between them, each lost in his thoughts. Ryneq hated sitting around waiting. He needed to move, to feel as though he was doing something to put an end to Seran’s attack. He got up and walked over to the tray of wine on the side table and poured some out. “Help yourselves,” he said as he walked over to the fire and took a drink. A huge family portrait hung on the wall above the hearth. His father had commissioned it for his mother’s birthday, and it had been completed only a few months before they were both killed.

Ryneq wondered what his father would have done in his position. He doubted he could have done anything differently and hoped his father would be proud of the way he’d acted so far. As king, his father had always led his men from the front, never shying away from battle, and Ryneq strived to do the same. He looked up at his family as they seemed to smile down on him with encouragement, and he vowed that no matter what, he would protect his people until his dying breath.

They didn’t have to wait long before Glaevahl arrived, with Avelor and Nysad right behind him. Ryneq gestured for them to take a seat and moved around the table to take his own.

“Where are Faelon and Lerran?” Nykin asked, his brow furrowing.

Avelor smiled at Nykin’s obvious concern. “Faelon chose to remain behind for a little longer, to monitor the section of the barrier we repaired. Lerran has returned to his room. I assure you, they are both fine, Nykin.”

Ryneq cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “The witch enchanted the archers’ arrows, and is now in possession of a significant amount of dragon’s blood.” He paused to let the information sink in for Nysad and the elves.

“What does that mean exactly?” Nysad asked, turning to face Eldin.

Eldin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but Vashek was livid at the thought of her getting her hands on it, so I imagine it will be bad.”

“Glaevahl?” Ryneq addressed the elven elder, who didn’t look as surprised as Ryneq had been expecting. “Do you have anything to add?”

“Yes, Your Highness, I believe so.” He spoke quietly to Alevor before clasping his hands on top of the table. “We found several mentions of dragon’s blood being used in witchcraft, in the books Eldin showed us. We already know that using it increases a spell’s potency. The old spells in the books were generally for healing and protection, and they implied that blood from more than one dragon would enhance the potency even more. She has at least eight to ten different samples. It depends on the age of the dragon and the amount of blood used, but in some cases the spells were up to five times as strong. I would assume it applies to dark magic as well.” Glaevahl met Ryneq’s gaze, and Ryneq did his best not to let his fear show.

But if the witch could make her spells five times as powerful, then the barrier could well fail on her next attempt, and who knew what she could do to the dragons.

“I have been in contact with Queen Ahlyria,” Glaevahl continued. “The elders have found entries in our archives describing dark magic. It states that some spells call for the use of dragon’s blood as an ingredient in its own right and not just to fortify the spell.”

“What does this mean for the barrier?” Ryneq shifted in his seat, not looking forward to the answer.

“If the witch can incorporate all that blood when she attacks the barrier, then I doubt even all our magic combined can prevent it from failing.”

Ryneq fought the urge to throw his wine goblet across the room. Just when they’d had a glimmer of hope
—
the attack had gone better than he’d expected
—
now their situation appeared to be worse than ever.

“It’s not as bad as it might seem, though, Sire,” Alevor added after a hushed conversation with Glaevahl.

Ryneq raised an eyebrow. “Really? I fail to see how it could possibly get much worse.” He motioned for Avelor to continue.

“The barrier would fail beyond repair after the third attack anyway, with or without the addition of dragon’s blood. But the witch is unaware of this fact. I feel it safe to assume she will want to use the blood in her next attempt, to guarantee her success.”

“Agreed, but what’s your point?”

Avelor smiled, and Ryneq couldn’t help but feel another spark of hope. “According to the books in your library, a spell using dragon’s blood takes seven days to prepare.”

Ryneq relaxed a little in his seat. It wasn’t a solution to their situation by any means, but it did buy them some precious time. Even as he sat there, though, the relief was short-lived. No matter if it happened in two days or seven, the witch would break through the elven barrier, and Torsere would be vulnerable to attack.

Cerylea wouldn’t be able to use Hervathian magic to fully protect them for at least another three weeks, and by then it would be too late.