The Darkness of Glengowyn (16 page)

“Undo the spell? I’ve never tried before, on any of the arrows I create. You think I should destroy these, not let them get out?”

“Not necessarily. I was just considering our options. This is an even more deadly weapon than your previous invention.”

“Yet the shrapnel didn’t spray out and kill those around Sareena. The destruction was focused and confined.”

“An assassin’s tool.”

Nuala straightened. “A terrifying tool.”

He took her hand. “Come. We need to return to Sinnale territory and discuss this more. But I want you away from the conflict.”

She glanced back through the walls of the building, as if she could see the fighting. “Will they succeed tonight, do you think? The battle was moving in the Sinnale’s favor.”

“We can hope. If they drive the Sorcerers out over the next few days, there will be no need for them to request a trade in this newest weapon of yours. I think that would be best for all.”

She had to agree. The full weight of what she had created was starting to sink in, the devastation this one type of arrow could reap if placed in the wrong hands. For once, she actually agreed with her sovereigns’ position on not trading her most deadly creations.

As they made their way back to the deserted streets of Noman’s Land, Nuala wasn’t so sure she even wanted her king and queen to know about this new weapon. If they did, she doubted they would banish her. They could hardly allow her to leave their rule given what she could now create. But would they just allow her and Einar to disobey a royal decree without punishment? Could they and still maintain the allegiance of their subjects?

A new kind of fear rolled through Nuala’s gut. Suddenly banishment didn’t seem so bad.

Chapter Fifteen

Once back inside Sinnale territory and safely ensconced in the council’s meeting hall, Nuala and Einar made their way to the rooftop again—for both privacy and an experiment. It was time for Einar to call the owls and see how his own magics had been affected by their bond.

She settled silently at his side and waited with more patience than she thought she had left, knowing this was as important as what had happened to her magic. If he could no longer call the owls, one more aspect of his value to the king and queen vanished. Without that value, even though he remained a warrior to be feared, she couldn’t be sure of the punishment they might mete out.

She almost shouted when she saw the silent, white blur in the distance, approaching steadily over the rooftops in their direction. Einar put up his arm and the owl landed gracefully. The two stared at each other for a long moment. Nuala wanted badly to speak but was afraid to distract from what was happening.

Eventually, Einar made the same soft sounds she’d heard before when speaking to the owls. There was another moment of silence. The owl screeched and Einar nodded. Then the bird launched into the air, heading back in the direction of Glengowyn.

“So,” Nuala said as soon as the creature was away. “Was that a specific animal you called? Was there a difference in the communication?”

Einar leaned on the low wall circling the roof and crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth pursed in a slight frown. “The process was…different. That was a specific owl. He was actually quite far away when I called. But he came the distance, despite there being more who could have come. Apparently, the others didn’t hear.”

“So you can’t call them generally anymore?”

“No. I can still call them generally. But now, when I’m specific, that specific animal can hear me from a much greater distance than ever before. And find me much easier without other owls passing on my position. Even a specific call before tended to be…passed between the owls. It seems that’s no longer necessary.”

“And the actual talking? The same or different?”

“Stronger. Clearer. I thought I could understand them perfectly before, but now… There’s an added layer of meaning within our communication that was never there before. I understood him better. He understood me better too.”

“This is good!” Nuala gripped his biceps. “Stronger, better, that works in your favor. You have something the king and queen still want.”

He looked down at her, his eyes dark. “You’ve considered that as well?”

She moved closer and he wrapped her in his arms without her having to ask. “I’ve considered that if they know about my newest arrows, they won’t want to send me from Glengowyn. But you… We’ve disobeyed them. Their decree that we stay apart was no secret. Others know, and our defiance will challenge their leadership. If we bring nothing of value to earn their mercy…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

They both knew they’d left themselves vulnerable to the same punishments placed on the traitors. If they continued to be of use to Glengowyn, however, they might just avoid the very worst possible option.

Einar tightened his hold and said aloud what she couldn’t. “If they have me killed by the Sinnale, especially under the
Or’roan
, they risk killing you through the bond-link as well,” he pointed out.

Though Nuala suspected Einar had been charged once or twice with assassinating another elf—secretly so that there was no evidence, only rumor—the king and queen made a point of upholding the taboo and not actually having their subjects executed by their own hands, or that of any other elf. To kill Einar would require the help of the Sinnale. But after everything the sovereigns were doing for the humans now, Nuala doubted they would object if the matter was put to them right.

“Even if you survived my death, the violent breaking of the bond could destroy this new skill of yours,” he added.

“Keeping the skill or destroying it utterly would serve the same purpose—preventing others from having access to these…assassin’s tools. They may not care which happens.” She snuggled her head under his chin and squeezed her arms around his waist. “We should run. Now. Go as far as we can. They don’t need to know about the new arrows. They can assume we took ourselves into banishment because of our bonding. They never need to know.”

“What of the arrows below in the armory? If you can’t destroy them, they remain a danger.” He lifted her chin with the side of his hand so she was forced to look at him. “The humans on that rooftop witnessed the power of these arrows. Word will reach Glengowyn. We won’t be safe even if we run.”

She pressed her lips together to hold back the helplessness sweeping through her. “What will we do? How can we survive this?”

His large hand cupped her cheek, and he kissed her softly. But he didn’t answer her questions.

Nuala spent the remainder of that night and much of the next day attempting to unravel the assassin spell, to destroy the arrows she’d created. The process was slow and tedious because she didn’t want to kill anyone—or herself—in the process.

After some work and concentration, knowing Einar was nearby keeping watch, she managed to find the key to breaking down the spell safely. It was almost more complicated than setting the original spell had been, and it took more energy. But knowing she didn’t have to leave such a deadly weapon lying about was a relief worth the energy output.

That night, after she’d managed to undo the spell on a fraction of the arrows, members of the council started to approach her. At first singly, then several of them at a time.

Rumors of the arrow she was “developing” had reached them from the front lines, where the Sinnale were slowly but steadily forcing the Sorcerers to give ground. They questioned how long it would take for the new arrows to be available, what price Glengowyn would require for them, when was the earliest date at which they could anticipate a trade arrangement?

Nuala prevaricated, never answering directly. Only saying the arrows weren’t ready yet. And every time she sent the council members away, she returned to destroying more of her creations.

Einar remained a dark presence at her side, hovering and intimidating enough to keep the council from pushing her. But she knew they were working against time. News of this would reach Glengowyn soon. The council would eventually turn directly to the king and queen for real answers.

In turn, the king and queen would demand answers of their own.

When she reached the point of exhaustion, Einar made sure she slept. He saw to her needs for food and water. He kept watch when she was deep inside her magics. At the back of her mind, he was there, a safe haven in a dangerous new world.

By the second day, only about twenty of the assassin arrows remained. News reached them of the fighting and she knew the Sinnale had retaken an entire section of the city. But the forward progress had been stopped again. The Sorcerers had set new border spells the Sinnale could no longer pinpoint and avoid. Both traitor elves and Sorcerers remained beyond the reach of the shrapnel bomb arrows now, well behind the spells the humans couldn’t get around to make the weapons effective.

Another standoff ensued. The Sorcerers were on the defensive now more than ever, though. And a sense of satisfaction came with the stories of what was happening.

But also frustration. The council pushed a little harder for more information on her newest arrows. Would they be able to penetrate these new spells the Sorcerers had set up? How much longer before they were ready to use? Over the course of that second day, she was visited no less than five times by various humans. Each time, their interest intensified.

“I can’t blame them,” she told Einar during one of the breaks he forced her to take.

“Neither can I, now that they see a possible victory in sight,” he said. “But I’m reluctant to have anyone know what you can do now. I’d rather you didn’t even tell Ulric.”

“I won’t be able to lie to him if he asks directly,” she admitted. “I’ve never been able to lie to him.”

“Have you ever had cause before?”

She met his gaze. “With you. When we first mated. When we broke. I tried to keep all that to myself, but he knew. Even when I didn’t say anything aloud.”

Einar frowned. “Your cousin is too observant. It made him a brilliant commander during the wars, in conjunction with his talent for strategy. I know he also negotiates well with the humans in trade because of those traits. But it is inconvenient in this case.”

She snorted and pointed with her dinner knife to the plate in front of him. “You eat too. You’ve been keeping vigil constantly since I started dismantling the arrows.” She studied his face. “Have you slept at all?”

“You know I can go for long periods without sleep.”

“Einar…”

Her warning actually lightened the frown creasing his brows and crinkling his eyes. An almost-smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I find it…unusual, how you worry about me. I’m not used to it. At least not from anyone but you.”

“You know well why I worry.”

“I love you too.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “That, unfortunately, is part of our problem.”

“But the best part,” he said, gripping her hand in a tight squeeze. He released her and gestured back to her plate, a not-so-subtle reminder for her to continue her meal. “I have been considering the Sinnale’s interest in your weapon, the weapon itself… Has it occurred to you that if they had the names of the individual Sorcerers, it might be possible to kill them without having to engage in all-out offensives anymore?”

“Yes, actually. In the midst of all their questions, I did consider that. But they’d need the Sorcerers’ real names. Not what they go by, not what the minions call them. Their true names.”

“You’re sure?”

“I learned a lot more about the spell during the dismantling. Knowing what the trigger is has given me an insight that’s let me understand the workings of the magic better. The arrow that killed Sareena wouldn’t have flown without her real name.”

“So much has happened…” He paused, studying her for a quiet moment. “Are you sorry about that killing? Once again you’ve been forced to break the taboo. Are there regrets?”

She tilted her head. She’d been so concerned with the dangerous weapon she’d made she’d barely considered that she’d taken yet another elf’s life. That others had witnessed her doing what elves were not supposed to be able to do.

“I hadn’t thought about that until now,” she admitted. “Not only have I created an assassin’s weapon, but the humans saw me kill another elf. They know about the taboo. They think it’s impossible for us to kill one another. Now that they’ve seen that’s not the case… I’m not sure what this means.”

“I’m more concerned with how you’re feeling about it. The humans and what they believe or don’t believe holds no real interest for me.”

“I don’t regret Sareena’s death,” she said, and knew she told only the truth. “The traitors forfeit their right to my sympathy. The longer I’m in Sinnale, the more firmly I feel about that. These people have been our allies for centuries, since settling near Glengowyn. I will never understand or forgive the traitors’ defection.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I would not see you suffer for killing one who would, given the chance, hand you over to the Sorcerers.”

“All the killing… Have you ever felt remorse?” she asked.

“No.” His tone was flat and matter-of-fact. “I’m not sure I have it in me. It seems to be part of the same aspect of me that becomes…what I become in the heat of battle. Sometimes…” He trailed off and looked away.