Alliance (32 page)

T
HE
BODIES
of Ryneq’s guards lay broken and twisted on the ground, scattered along the length of the passageway as if they’d been casually
tossed aside. Their limbs were at unnatural angles, and Ryneq’s
stomach turned over as he saw that each one of them had their throat cut.

He swallowed back the bile as a cackle of laughter drew his attention. King Seran and his witch stood at the far end of the passageway with a group of Rodethian guards behind them. She looked much like the witch they’d encountered in Alel—same long black hair and black eyes—but this one was taller, older. He took a step toward them, but Lerran stayed him with a hand on his arm.

“Ryneq,” Lerran whispered urgently, his voice so quiet Ryneq strained to hear him. “Stay close to me.”

Ryneq nodded slightly to let Lerran know he’d heard. “Murdering witch!” he hissed and raised his sword. “I will watch you burn for this.”

The witch laughed even louder at that. “Is that so? You are in no position to threaten me,
King
Ryneq.” She moved closer, waving her hands over the bodies between them. “If this is the best you have to offer, then no wonder we took your precious kingdom so easily.”

Ryneq suddenly realized how it had grown quiet. The fighting outside should have been audible even through the palace walls, but there was nothing. Where were all his men?

“Oh look,” the witch said, turning to face Seran. “He wants to know why all the fighting stopped.”

Seran smiled, and it was the same expression he’d had when he’d first seen Ryneq at Risvery Castle—predatory, smug, and full of confidence that nothing Ryneq did would get him out of this situation. “Your men stopped fighting when you declared their surrender.”

“I would never surrender!” Ryneq moved forward again, and this time Lerran had to forcibly hold him back.

“Ryneq, please.”

The witch eyed them both, her gaze lingering on Lerran with such a look of hunger it made Ryneq shiver. “Your shield won’t last forever, elf. I will take your magic soon enough.” She turned her attention to Ryneq. “And while
you
might not have surrendered, someone looking very much like you stood on those walls and declared that Torsere lay down its weapons.”

She laughed at the look of outrage Ryneq must surely have, because he had never felt such anger in his life. She patted a small vial trapped in a belt around her waist. “Dragon’s blood is a wonderful thing. It’s a shame I couldn’t hold the spell for longer, but clearly it was long enough.”

“But how?” The words were out before he could stop them. He didn’t particularly want to engage the witch in conversation, but according to the elves, the dragon’s blood she took a few days ago shouldn’t be ready to use yet.

The witch grinned, her hand tightening around the vial. “Dragon’s blood lasts forever, did you know that?” She ran her thumb across the top reverently. “We didn’t know what we’d stumbled on at first, my sister and I, just a couple of old bottles and a rotting book buried in a witch’s grave. But it called to us, the magic strong and intoxicating. When we found out what it was, and what it could do… we just had to have more.”

“We don’t have time for this, Mariskah. They’re just stalling so the riders can escape.” Seran twitched uncomfortably, gaze darting behind Ryneq in the direction of the Eyrie.

The witch’s smile instantly fell away, and Ryneq heard Lerran whispering. Lerran’s arms shot out in front of him just as the witch unleashed a bolt of red magic at them.

Ryneq braced for the spell to hit, stepping back reflexively, but the air crackled and hissed as a shimmery wall of purple protected them. He glanced to the side. Lerran’s shoulders tensed under the strain of maintaining the shield, but it held fast.

“You can’t draw on their power forever, elf.” Mariskah pulled the vial out of her belt and drank it down, licking her lips at the taste. “I was saving that for the bonding spell, but I guess I can always get more.”

Ryneq frowned. She couldn’t possibly mean to bond herself to a dragon. There was no spell for—

The impact of the next spell cut off all train of thought as he and Lerran were thrown back through the wooden doors and ended up in a tangled heap at the bottom of what used to be the Eyrie steps. Ryneq tried to get up, wincing a little when his arm twinged as he tried to put weight on it. His wrist was sore, but thankfully not too bad.

Lerran stirred next to him, groaning when he opened his eyes. From what Ryneq could see, Lerran had a nasty gash on his temple, but as he pushed himself upright, at least nothing looked broken.

“Are you all right?” Ryneq asked, using his good arm to support himself as he wriggled into a sitting position.

“I believe so.” Lerran gingerly prodded the cut on his head, grimacing as his hand came away covered in blood.

Seran’s guards rushed through the splintered remains of the doors moments later, followed by Seran and Mariskah. The guards pressed the tips of their swords against Ryneq’s throat, forcing him not to move an inch, as they kept him and Lerran in place on the floor.

“Did you think this would keep me out?” Mariskah waved a pale hand over what used to be the steps to the Eyrie. “How little you know about my power.” With a flick of her hand, the rubble began to recede, melting back into the side of the mountain as if it had never been there in the first place. “See.” She stepped over their legs, smirking down at Lerran as she passed. “It’s almost too easy.” Without a second look, she turned away and began the climb to the Eyrie entrance. Ryneq hoped the dragon riders had had enough time to get away, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

“Bind their hands and bring them up,” Seran ordered, and his men hurried to do his bidding as Seran followed after the witch.

Ryneq clenched his teeth when they yanked his arms behind his back and tied them. His wrist throbbed painfully, and his eyes watered as they secured his hands with rope.

Lerran glanced over at him, blinking away the drops of blood that trickled down his forehead. He raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face, and Ryneq nodded quickly.

His wrist felt as if it were on fire now, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Out of the two of them, Ryneq was more concerned about the way Lerran’s head wound hadn’t stopped bleeding yet.

“On your feet.” Seran’s guards pulled them both upright and shoved them toward the steps.

Ryneq grunted as he stumbled a little but managed to right himself before he fell to his knees. The guards behind them laughed. If he managed to survive long enough for Nykin and the elves to return, Ryneq would take great delight in wiping the smiles from their faces.

“Lerran,” Ryneq whispered as loud as he dared without the guards hearing them. “Can you contact, Nykin? Tell them to hurry?”

Lerran shook his head. “Her spell did something to the cuff, I can fix it, but I need my hands free.” He glanced back over his shoulder at his bound wrists, and Ryneq’s hopes fell.

They were nearly to the top of the steps, and Ryneq almost didn’t want to look. He held his breath as the entrance came into view, but they were met by an empty space. He sighed in relief.

The guards pushed them toward the tunnels that led to the landing caves. The first few caves were also empty, and Ryneq felt certain the riders had all managed to escape, but then they heard the unmistakable roar of a dragon.

No.

Ryneq went cold all over. The thought of what must have happened to cause a sound like that made his blood run cold, and
oh
Gods
, what if it was Fimor?

The Rodethian guards stopped them at the entrance to the next cave along and pushed them inside. Seran and the witch stood near the cave mouth. The witch had her hands outstretched, and her sharp, scratchy voice echoed around the cave as bolts of red magic surged from her hands. “Bring them here, and let the king watch his mighty dragons fall by my hand.”

When they were near enough to the edge to see, Ryneq looked up into the sky, and his breath caught. “Eldin.” There were four, maybe five dragons in the sky, but Ryneq’s attention focused in on Vashek as he struggled to fly with a gaping tear in his wing. The two figures on his back were hunched over, no doubt clinging on for dear life. “Stop!” he yelled, rounding on the witch. “You’re going to kill them.”

Mariskah turned her black eyes on him, and Ryneq couldn’t help but take a step back. “Yes. That would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” She flicked her hand out without even bothering to look, and a red stream shot from her hands through the sky. It caught Vashek in the tail and sent him careening straight into one of the landing caves.

The pained cry Vashek let out echoed along the tunnels. He sounded broken and in agony, and it hurt to hear it. If the fall hadn’t killed them all already, Ryneq didn’t think they’d be alive for long.

“Mariskah!” Seran hissed, turning away from the cave mouth to face her. “The rest of them are getting away, and you’ve just killed the one we had.” He attempted to grab her arm, but she warned him off with a glare.

“He’s not dead yet, Seran. And I only need one for now.” She took a step toward him, and when Seran immediately took a step back, Ryneq realized that she scared him. Seran might have been in command with the first witch in Alel, but he had no power over this one. “Besides, the dragon riders will come back quickly enough when we give them some incentive.” Her gaze fell on Ryneq and Lerran, and she grinned with all of her teeth on show. Ryneq fought hard not to shrink away. “Maybe we can persuade the elves to come too.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the cave, clearly expecting the others to follow her. Seran’s guards were already pushing Ryneq and Lerran toward the tunnel, another example of who was in charge. Seran had a face like thunder, but he stalked past them and out after the witch.

The guards marched them down past the next few caves, checking in each one until they found the witch and Seran.

“
Merciful Mother of the Forest.
”
Lerran stopped at the entrance to the cave, and Ryneq almost ran into him. “Glaevahl?” Lerran began to rush to where the elven elder lay curled up on the ground, but the guards hauled him back. He’d obviously been thrown to the side when Vashek landed, because Vashek and Eldin were only just inside the cave and over on the opposite side. Neither of them appeared to be moving, and Ryneq thought the worst until he saw Eldin’s eyes flutter open.

Vashek’s saddle and harness had been cut away, maybe torn as they landed, and Eldin’s body sprawled over the length of Vashek’s back, with his arms wrapped tightly around Vashek’s neck.

The witch stood in the middle of them all, looking back and forth as though deciding whom to go to first. In the end she chose Glaevahl. “I can almost taste the strength of your magic, elf.” She reached down and ran her hand over Glaevahl’s shoulder, flinching back when sparks met her touch.

Glaevahl rolled onto his back, his eyes narrowed and one hand wrapped around the silver pendant around his neck. “You would do well to remember who you’ve made an enemy of this day, witch.” He closed his eyes, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. The pendant glowed purple under his palm, and he glanced over at Lerran, nodding once.

Ryneq wanted to ask what that meant, but Lerran shot him a look that made him hold his tongue.

“Ahlyria of Hervath holds no fear for me. I can take what is hers so very easily, just like I took the king’s lead rider.” She laughed and stood upright. “Watch me.”

With both her hands out in front of her, she closed her eyes and began to chant. The words were like nothing Ryneq had ever heard before, but judging by the shocked look on Lerran’s face, he recognized them all too well.

“Elvish?” Ryneq asked quietly, and Lerran nodded in return.

“Very
old
Elvish.”

Glaevahl moaned in pain, his back arching against his will as the witch’s magic flowed from her hands and into Glaevahl’s body. A red, hazy light surrounded him, pulsing in a steady rhythm that reminded Ryneq of a heartbeat. He hoped he was wrong, because the rhythm started to slow down, longer pauses between each beat.

Lerran stood stiffly beside him, his shoulders moving slightly, and when Ryneq leaned back a little to look at Lerran, he saw tiny purple sparks coming out of his fingers. He continued to work at the ropes, becoming increasingly frustrated, until he finally gave up and let his shoulders slump.

The witch swayed on her feet, as though drunk from everything she’d taken from Glaevahl, and Glaevahl took the opportunity to open his eyes one last time. He fixed Lerran with a fond but stern look. “
Khar N’ath, Lerran. R’ian fir’ik midhle, il ar’lith el affek Hervath afle se’ern loreth ad sol’reh.
” A look of peace settled across his features as he breathed out and his whole body relaxed into the stone floor.

The witch marched over to Lerran and grabbed his cheek with her pale fingers, her nails cutting into the skin where she held him too tightly. She might have known the old Elvish spells, but from the confused and furious expression on her face, she had no idea what Glaevahl had just said. “Tell me!” she demanded. “What did he say before he died?”