Alliances

Ellimer was convinced the Scarecrow intended to lose his bandit pursuers in the fogs and uncharted ruins and swamps surrounding the lake. The worst terrain lay between the lake’s eastern shore and the coast. The land was low there, and Beryl’s impact had caused a major subsidence. The north shore of the lake was treacherous, but the east was a deathtrap.

“It’s not a route I’d care to take,” Ellimer said, “but even changed as it is since Qualinost’s drowning, it’s still elf country and the most likely spot for them to go to ground.”

Breetan was pleased. Gathan’s huge army would be hampered by the terrain. This would allow her time to track down the elusive Scarecrow and carry out her instructions.

“I shall go to the south shoreline and let the enemy come to me.”

“An excellent plan, Lady.” Ellimer sat back, leaving his dagger on the map. He folded his hands across his round belly. “Don’t be too sanguine about the route, though. That’s perilous country. No one, neither elves nor bandits, rules there. It’s infested with all manner of wild things.”

“And wild rebels,” the sergeant added wryly. Ellimer lifted his cup in acknowledgment. Fired with excitement for her new plan, Breetan was eager to depart. Declining Ellimer’s offer to pass the night in his home, she declared her intention to ride on at once.

“May you succeed for the glory of the Order.” Despite the formal tone of his words, Ellimer grinned widely, his eyes nearly vanishing in the folds of his skin.

Breetan frowned. How in Chaos could she judge the man’s sincerity when he was so unrelentingly jolly? She took up her glass and returned his toast.

“Glory to the Order,” she said and gulped down the last of her wine.

Chapter 16

The bridge on Birch Trail carried the elves across the White-Rage River. On the other side, the royal guards who’d separated from the column to lead their horses up from Silveran’s Way rejoined the group. Porthios ordered the bridge destroyed after all were safely across. That would delay pursuit only slightly. No more than a quarter mile north, the river was fordable enough for determined riders. Still, any obstacle they could throw in their pursuers’ path, no matter how small, was worthwhile.

Birch Trail ended a quarter mile beyond the bridge. From there, on the eastern side of Nalis Aren, the land descended in giant, staggered steps, like the stairway of a colossal temple. Broken tables of stone jutted from the ground. It was not marble thrown up from Qualinost, but bedrock shattered by the tremendous impact. A single misstep meant death, and a handful of the Bianost militia were lost. Exhaustion, the exertion of combat, and the debilitating atmosphere of the region had all of them reeling. Upon reaching a stone slab more than fifty yards wide, they dared to pause and rest.

Nalis Aren was roughly triangular in shape. The White-Rage emptied it, flowing north from one of its “points.” Narrow tributaries filled it at the southwestern and southeastern points. Below the elves, near the lake’s southeastern corner, lay the lakeshore’s lowest point. Known colloquially as the Cleft, it was shadowed by greenish yellow fog. The elves panted in the cold yet humid air and watched for signs of pursuit. Water was distributed. The wounded were settled more comfortably in their litters.

The few guards Samar had left to watch their rear came rushing in. They bore ill news: the bandits were definitely following them. Mounted humans, as well as goblin skirmishers, could be seen, but they took care not to get too close to the elves.

“The main army isn’t here yet,” Kerian observed. “Just the vanguard.”

“They still outnumber us,” Alhana said. She’d quit her L litter to walk on her own.

Porthios for once was staying close. He didn’t relish wandering too far in the noxious environs of Nalis Aren.

“You said the bandits wouldn’t follow us around the lake,” Kerian said to him. “You’ve miscalculated.”

Porthios stood on the edge of the cracked bedrock slab—he never seemed to sit—and stared down at the Cleft. “It’s good they follow on our heels,” he said. “What lies ahead will strike the clumsy goblins and humans, not us.”

Alhana exchanged a worried look with Kerian then asked Porthios, “What lies ahead?”

“I don’t know, but there’s a reason people and beasts shun this place. We’ll encounter it, or the bandits will.”

He stepped off the slab and dropped down to the next, and the next, gradually slipping from sight. Silence followed his pronouncement. Alhana stood, dusted herself off, and declared, “The only way to go is forward.”

She and her two champions set out. The royal guards, leading their horses over the uncertain ground, came next, then the Bianost elves.

“Our leader is mad,” Kerian muttered as the Qualinesti passed. They eyed her uncertainly, wondering whether they should take her words as joke or warning.