The Lore Of The Evermen (Book 4) (25 page)

Couriers rushed along the line to take reports to the commanders. There was a moment of respite, and then Ella heard a trumpet screech: three long blasts.

Ella’s blood ran cold when she heard the order to retreat.

Miro knew what he was doing, and he knew these defenses were lost.

Ella realized she hadn’t heard the cannon for a while, and
looking
at the tower, she saw the pile of balls below the cannon was gone. Squinting at the next distant gap in the wall, she saw a
colossus
defending there also.

Bodies of Dunfolk, Alturans, Halrana, and free cities natives littered the ground, mingled with revenants, their runes sparking and fizzing as the energy left the corpses.

Past the front of the wall, at the distant edge of the
killing
ground, Ella saw the attackers regrouping for their next imm
inent wav
e.

“Fall back!” Ella heard the cry, taken up by the men around her. The soldiers grabbed weapons and ran.

Ella knew the plan; she and the other enchanters had their own part to play. They couldn’t afford to let the cannon fall into enemy hands. The plan was to destroy everything. Miro didn’t want his defenders facing their compatriots, brought back as
revenants
.

Ella rushed to the base of the tower and found the cube-shaped device. This runebomb wasn’t designed to roll; it was made to destroy.

Already the wall was nearly devoid of men. Ella ignored the revenants now surging forward as she scanned the base of the wall and saw the fresh dirt marking where they’d buried barrels of black powder.

Ella placed her fingers on the cube and spoke the activation sequence.

She looked up at the colossus manning the gap. “Run!” she called.

Perhaps the animator didn’t hear her. Or perhaps he decided to buy the defenders the time they needed with his life. As the enemy once more poured into the gap, the animator took his colossus to meet them.

Ella turned and sprinted back along the road toward
Sarostar
. Men and women in green silk ran at her side; the enchanters had played their part. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw the scrabbling revenants break against the colossus, clawing at the gigantic construct and climbing up the legs. More enemies climbed up to find the wall uncontested, roaring their triumph.

Behind Ella, the entire wall, at every part of its great length, fragmented in an instant as the buried explosives at the eighty-six emplacements blew in a detonation of dirt and flame.

The blast threw Ella flat on her face, and if she hadn’t been wearing her enchantress’s dress, she likely would have been killed. She picked herself up and glanced back.

They’d planned this carefully: Miro wanted to delay the enemy and rob them of potential new revenants. The earth had a new
fissure
, filled with rubble, an obstacle it would take the enemy days to clear.

Ella ran with the last of the stragglers, looking for the blockade she knew lay somewhere ahead.

Miro wasn’t trying to hold his defenses; he was trying to buy time. Ella knew the next part of the plan: a rolling retreat, along the road to Sarostar.

32

The sound of dripping filled a constant counterpoint to the
whirling
thoughts spinning one after the other through Amber’s head. She didn’t know if it was night or day. The only guide she had to go by was the shining green prism, filling her every waking moment
with dread.

She’d been in the cell for days, though it was hard to keep track of exactly how long it had been. She wondered how the search for Katerina, High Lord Grigori’s daughter, was going. Her heart reached out the innocent girl; Sergei Rugar had probably killed the poor child.

Amber thought about the enchanters she’d sent north to Lake Vor. Would they come for her? She knew in her heart, though, that as soon as they saw the green light, they would rush back to
Sarostar
, skipping Rosarva. There would be no help coming.

Amber raised her head when she heard a heavy clanging,
followed
by the rattle of keys, and then the groan of metal against metal. Footsteps sounded moistly on the damp floor of the
dungeons
beneath the Borlag. Bright light suddenly assa
ulted her
.

Amber shielded her eyes against the glare. Eventually the shining moved away from her face, and she blinked to restore
her visio
n.

High Lord Grigori Orlov lowered the pathfinder in his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed and his clothes rumpled; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Just tell me where she is,” Grigori pleaded.

Amber looked for Sergei, but for once he wasn’t present.
Realizing
her chance, she climbed unsteadily to her feet and approached the bars.

“Please,” Amber said, “listen to me. You told Katerina she would be high lord after you, is that correct?”

Grigori frowned, his forehead creasing over his wide-spaced eyes. “It’s common knowledge.”

“Has Sergei Rugar told you how he feels about one day
following
a woman? Has he shared with you his ambition to become high
lord himsel
f ?”

Grigori held up his hand. “Please, enough of your lies. If you tell me where my daughter is, and she is unharmed, I will send you back to your people. Much as I would prefer to see you rot down here, I will make this pledge. Amber Torresante of Altura: Where is my daughter?”

“I don’t know!” Amber said. “Your trusted lord marshal isn’t what he appears to be. He’s done this to discredit me and my
people’s
call for help while also ensuring a woman can never rule House Vezna. You have to understand . . .”

“What’s going on here?” a strong masculine voice said, and
Sergei
strode into the room, flanked by two of the palace guards. “Oh, it’s you, High Lord.”

“Sergei, your methods are not achieving results,” the high
lord sai
d.

Lord Marshal Sergei looked at Grigori and then at Amber. “I am doing my best, High Lord. She’s been fed nothing but water, and even then . . .”

“Starving her is not enough to restore my daughter!” Grigori shouted.

“Don’t you think if I knew where she was, I would bargain with you?” Amber pleaded.

“Enough!” the high lord cried. He rounded on Sergei. “You’ve made her uncomfortable, nothing more. Alturans are known for their obstinacy. I want you to make her skin crawl. I want you to make her beg you for mercy. If you can get results without visible damage, more the better. But I’m asking you to find my daughter, Sergei, or perhaps your own head will roll.”

The high lord was the bigger man, and he emphasized his points with a jutting finger prodded into Sergei’s lean chest. The blonde-haired Veznan blanched, and when the high lord paused, he nodded.

“As you wish, High Lord,” Sergei assented.

Grigori Orlov stomped from the room, taking the palace guards with him. Sergei and Amber were soon alone.

“I hoped he would be content with imprisonment,” Sergei said. He shrugged. “I am sorry, Lady Amber, but I am going to have to make you scream for appearances sake. It’s nothing personal.”

Amber felt fear send cold fingers up and down her spine.

Sergei disappeared for several minutes.

Amber called out for help and looked for a weapon. She rattled the bars and thought furiously, but this dungeon was built to hold stronger captives than her.

All too soon Sergei returned with one of the dungeon guards by his side, a different sort than the proud palace soldiers, with a bare chest and big calloused hands. Terror surged through Amber’s body as the guard looked her up and down and gave her an evil grin.

“You don’t need to do this,” Amber whispered.

“I’m afraid I do,” said Sergei. “Open the cell,” he instructed. “Take her out there, to the interrogation area.” He inclined his chin in the direction of the green light.

Amber struggled against the guard, but it was no use. He
carried
her, kicking and writhing, and forcefully laid her down on her back on a hard wooden table. Her wrists were yanked together behind her head; she felt iron hoops conveniently located near her wrists and ankles, and the guard made swift work of tying her down. Amber’s chest rose and fell with every heaving breath, and she cried out.

“Yes,” Sergei said, “that’s good. Scream so they all can hear.” He looked down at her. “We’re going to need to hear more than that, though. The high lord is no fool.”

“Is she dead?” Amber said.

“Why, whomever do you mean?”

“Katerina. The high lord’s daughter. You don’t seem the type to kill a child.”

Sergei glanced toward the heavyset guard. “Nice try, young lady. Now, it’s time for you to tell me where she is.”

“Don’t even bother pretending,” Amber said, feeling rage and terror course through her in equal measure.

“As stubborn as you are, the high lord’s right about one thing. It wouldn’t be wise to mark your flawless skin. It will be smarter to make you scream—and answer my questions—while leaving your body untouched. If Altura ever survives this enemy from across the sea, it will be much easier for us to invent some story to explain your death.”

He ran a fingertip down Amber’s cheek, and she flinched.

Sergei chuckled. “I’ve never held someone captive before.
Particularly
such a beauty. You know, I’m actually starting to
enjoy it.”

“My husband will gut you like a fish,” Amber said.

“No, I don’t think so. I think Miro Torresante has bigger things on his mind right now. He’ll find another wife, one who will bear him a child of his own. Oh, that made you flinch, didn’t it? Such a kind man, the Alturan high lord, to take on a son that wasn’t his. I wonder if he’ll be so kind when the mother is dead? What will
happen
to your precious child then?”

Sergei walked up and down Amber’s outstretched length as he spoke, fingertips caressing her as he wandered. The guard looked on intently, his eyes flitting between Amber’s face and her body.

Sergei suddenly vanished, leaving Amber dreading what would happen to her next. He returned a moment later, and now he held a glass jar in his hand. Sergei brought the jar close to Amber’s face, and she saw black spiders, dozens of them, climbing over each other and writhing in agitation.

“We have many creatures in our forests,” Sergei said. “The nettle spider isn’t deadly, but it is known for the pain it causes, even though it leaves no mark.”

Amber felt tears run down her cheeks.

“Scream, my pretty one,” Sergei breathed.

Amber drew in a breath, and she screamed.

Katerina was hungry. Sergei only came to feed her once a day, and there was never enough food. She knew he didn’t like her, and each time she ate, she sniffed at the food hesitantly before eating.
Katerina
knew all about poisons.

She knew she was in a house, with a dirt floor and a high ceiling formed by the two support trees leaning against each other, but she didn’t know anything else about where she was. She knew it couldn’t be far from her father’s palace, but even so, she’d screamed and screamed until her voice was hoarse, and no one heard her.

When he’d first brought her here, Sergei had put a seed into the ground and sat Katerina nearby. He’d said it was a test, and
Katerina
had to be brave. That was before she knew he was a bad man. Crouching on his heels, Sergei leaned forward and dribbled some water from a flask onto the seed.

Katerina had grown worried when he shuffled away, giving her a wide berth. Then it had all happened very quickly. The seed sprouted a seedling, which became a vine, and the leaves on the vine became more vines.

Suddenly there was a vine crawling around Katerina, wrapping itself around her arms and legs.

Katerina had tried to get away; she’d been told to be brave, but there was a strange gleam in her father’s friend’s eyes. The vine pulled her down to the ground, holding Katerina fast.

Katerina knew that eventually the essence pulsing through the vine would kill it. How long would that take? She tugged and tugged at the tendrils wrapped around her limbs, but still she couldn’t get herself free. Then Sergei left her.

She now looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers.
Katerina
had cried, that first day, but now she refused to cry. She was a Veznan princess, and she was determined to be strong.

Why had Sergei put her here?

Katerina’s hands were mottled with pink splotches and tingled painfully. Every time she pulled on the vine, it responded by
sucking
her tighter into its embrace. Her wrists and arms hurt. Dozens of green tendrils wound their way over and around her fingers.

Something on the middle finger of Katerina’s right hand flashed into her vision. It was the ring the nice lady from Altura had
given her
.

Katerina had an idea.

She wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her earlier, but she’d been so scared, so alone, so trapped in the vine, that she’d forgotten all about it.

“Tuhl . . .”
she said out loud. What was the strange word again? Katerina furrowed her brow and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t remember.

She began to panic. Sergei would return soon, and he might take the ring from her.

Katerina took a slow, deep breath, releasing the air as she calmed herself. A princess of Vezna must be strong.

“Tuhlas,”
she said. Nothing.
“Tuhlaranas.”
Still the ruby was dark.

Was it a trick? Had the woman deceived her somehow, like the man who once made a silver deen appear behind her ear?

“Tuhlanas,”
Katerina said.

The symbols etched around the ring’s circumference lit up with fire. The ruby sparkled and grew brighter and brighter as if shining from the inside. Katerina grinned and strained to touch the ruby to the vine. The living tendrils cringed and pulled away from the
growing
heat, but Katerina kept up her attack. The vine shied away from the bright stone and of its own accord unraveled itself from
Katerina’s
arm. She kept pressing the ring to the vine again and again, freeing her limbs, wriggling herself out of the clutching strands.

Soon Katerina was free.

The girl stood and stretched, hearing her back crack as she felt blood return to her tingling limbs. She looked at the door, where a living lock held the wood fast.

Katerina stumbled to the door and set to work.

High Lord Grigori Orlov stood on the balcony outside his
bedchamber
and sighed. He gazed out at the moat surrounding the Borlag and then at the Juno Bridge, the living walkway connecting the Borlag to the rest of Rosarva.

The Juno Bridge reminded Grigori of plants, which made him think of seedlings, which then led him to think about Katerina. Grigori’s wife had died giving birth to Katerina, and his daughter was everything to him; he feared for her constantly. Veznan history was filled with intrigue and betrayal. When a high lord’s son or daughter was kidnapped, it never ended well.