A Queen of Ice (A Trial of Sorcerers #5)

Chapter 14

14

E ira dropped her magic like a silken curtain, returning to the realm of perception. “It’s you.”

“You recognize me?” Allun seemed surprised, but genuinely pleased. “It was brief, and I was but one among the masses.”

“You looked at me like you knew me, then.” It had been a brief meeting, and Allun was merely one among the masses in the mines. It was when Mel had escorted her into the large cavern the prisoners of the mines were kept in. That night, Eira had seen Allun, though she hadn’t known the significance of the woman then.

The explanation of her recapture and finishing the job from Drogol suddenly made a lot more sense.

“I know the visage of Adela, even years younger.”

Eira allowed her parentage to remain somewhat ambiguous, neither confirming nor denying Allun’s suspicion. “How did you end up there?”

“How anyone else does; I was careless and foolish at the wrong time.” There was a bitterness to Allun’s words despite her grin stretching wider until it looked almost crazed. “Once they realized what they had in me, they stopped wasting my talents and put me to work.”

Eira wondered if the workshop she’d encountered on her entry to the mines had anything to do with Allun. Seemed likely.

“Then, thanks to you, they lost me, and tried desperately to reclaim me every second after that. Unfortunately they were successful.” The woman stood, a bit shaky on her feet, but more confident than Eira would’ve expected from her emaciated frame. She moved over slowly—it was as if the very shadows were trying to claw her back and she was embroiled in a valiant struggle against them.

As light sharpened her edges, Eira noticed markings etched into her forearms that were somewhere between tattoos and scars. “I’ve seen these before.” It had been on Adela’s ship, the night they were attacked.

“Ah, yes… I heard rumors that you managed to thwart someone with my work on his flesh.” Allun lifted a hand, studying her forearm as if for the first time. “Yet another reason I hoped our paths would cross again.”

“You knew about the lutenz?” How could word have made it back to Carsovia? It had been the first night Eira had controlled the Stormfrost —when a Carsovian ship had attacked them. The man had markings all over his flesh that Varren had called forbidden magics.

“I do not give my work to many, so I know all those who bear it. Moreover…it is a rare thing for someone to be able to overcome it. And to do it again, you’re going to need my help.” Even the movement of lowering her arm was smug, as if she already knew Eira was eying the markings.

“How so?”

“A rune-reinforced suit of armor I made wasn’t destined for Carsovia. The specifications were for a certain elfin man.”

“Ulvarth.” Eira breathed the name. It tasted like bile and hate. The mention of Ulvarth’s armor during her first meeting with the Hall of Ministers, and what her parents had said, suddenly made a lot more sense. “It can reflect magic.”

“That was what I designed it to do.” There was a spark of fascination in Allun’s eyes. “Did it work?”

“Allegedly.”

“It’s frustrating how good I am,” Allun lamented, both sincere and coy at the same time. “If you let me out, I’ll give you the power to destroy it.”

“Gladly.” She was going to let Allun out regardless, but this was even more of a reason to.

Eira placed her hand to the lock. The runes that stretched across the bars and chain were as hot as tiny branding irons sizzling her flesh. They fought against her, sparking with magic that melted her ice and reinforced the chain. The metal went white-hot from all the power coursing through it.

Despite the pain, and frustration, a grimace that was reminiscent of a smirk crossed Eira’s lips. The challenge was almost…delightful. More , she internally commanded herself.

Eira vaguely heard the soft hum from behind the bars. Her eyes darted to Allun, who was raising a hand to her lips. The woman took the pad of her thumb between her teeth, biting through the paper-thin skin, worn down by years of imprisonment and neglect. She reached through the bars to sketch out a rune on the back of Eira’s hand that was pressed against the lock.

The woman’s movements were deft, the symbol only taking a second to make. As soon as she withdrew, a surge of power coursed through Eira. The rush made her head spin and halt all at once. Internal seas calmed where there was once a struggle.

With a burst of power, the ice snapped through the chain. The lock was twisted metal, shards imbedded into jagged ice. With wet plops, the ice collapsed as Eira withdrew her hand. She stared at the mark on the back. The drying blood was already smearing and flaking off.

“What was that?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“An enhancement rune. I’ll show you much more than that when we’re out of here.” Allun stepped out of the cell, taking a breath and holding out her hands. “I am so tired of being chained by them. The key, and my things, should be in their storerooms by the cells.”

“Do you know the way?” Eira knew a request when she heard one and she wasn’t about to waste precious time debating if it was a smart idea or not.

“I’ve a suspicion from when they took me in.” Allun pointed in the direction opposite from where they came.

Eira let her lead. Cullen’s eyes continued to dart around, his magic humming at the edge of Eira’s senses. She relaxed her own magic, conserving her energy. A few of the other prisoners seemed to notice something was amiss, but the three of them were gone before any could raise a fuss or an alarm.

They reached an open doorway. The knights didn’t even bother to keep their storeroom under lock and key when they had the people themselves sequestered. The spoils of Carsovia’s misbegotten victories against their own people were strewn about carelessly. It wasn’t a gleaming treasure room of a king, but a pile of loot, haphazardly stuffed into trunks and strewn about in a disjointed jumble.

“They take everything that seems remotely interesting,” Allun said with disdain, grabbing some keys off a nearby hook and fitting them into her shackles. One popped off the cuffs and she began to rip open trunks and haphazardly throw things around the room. “Doesn’t matter who it’s from, what they did—or didn’t do. If they come through your town and want it, it’s theirs.”

Her words illuminated the trophies in a new light. Eira’s attention shifted from the precious metals and intricately dyed silks to rustic fur coats, well-worn satchels, keepsakes that were no doubt once treasured by their owners—lockets with dented fronts, stained letters, portraits in broken frames. She knelt and ran her fingers over the stitching of a doll. Her eyes were mother-of-pearl, and dress lace, but nothing about her could’ve been valuable. She was just another abandoned memory in this patchwork quilt of upended lives and harsh realities.

“Surprised they let you keep anything in the mines.”

“They didn’t. I stashed it all.” Allun opened a trunk with a snap.

Cullen jumped at the sound. He looked back into the hall, then back at Eira. She held his gaze, question unspoken. He shook his head and she assumed it to mean, No changes, still safe .

“When I got out, I returned to my hiding spot and made preparations. First I got to Drogol—he was elsewhere—got him out of Carsovia first and then I was going to join him,” Allun continued.

“But you got caught a second time,” Eira finished.

“They didn’t know who I was the first time I was captured, when they sent me to the mines.” Allun held up a well-laden satchel triumphantly. Its stitching was nearly bursting. “But when they saw this on me…one look and this time they knew they had someone worthy of bringing to Her Supreme Highness.” Even though she spoke a term of respect, nothing in Allun’s tone betrayed it. She slipped the satchel over her shoulder.

“What’s in it?” Cullen asked.

“My work.” The answer was somewhat cryptic. But, given what they knew of Allun, it was more than enough. Especially having seen the pistol. Allun grabbed two more things—a scarf that she drew over her head, tying it under her chin, and a jacket that she threw over her shoulders. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was better than nothing. “Let’s get out of here.”

“With pleasure.” Eira held out her hand to Allun, grabbing Cullen’s with her other. Linked together, her illusion slipped over them once more as they returned to the hallways, racing for the exit.

They were over halfway, by Eira’s assumption, when a rumbling at their right had them skidding to a halt. Eira released them, readying her magic. The wall next to them crumbled as though it were little more than sand. A perfect archway had been carved into the side, revealing a staircase that led up to the main street.

“Told you I sensed them down here.” Ducot had an air of smugness about him.

“I never doubted you, for the record,” Olivin said.

“Neither did I.” Alyss was defensive. “I just wasn’t completely convinced at how exact we’d be able to be.”

“With your magic, precision is never in doubt,” Yonlin praised.

“Your friends, I assume?” Allun said with a glance toward Eira.

“Yes.”

“What’s the plan?” Olivin looked to her as Eira entered the narrow stair that led back to the street. Behind them, Alyss was weaving the stone back into its place.

“Did anyone see any of you?” Eira asked.

Olivin snorted. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“They have guns along the outer wall,” Yonlin reported dutifully. “If we make a run for it in broad daylight, they’re going to pick us off.”

“I could tunnel?” Alyss offered.

Eira considered it, but shook her head. “That’s too strenuous, and too much of a risk of them sensing your magic.”

“More of a risk than this?” Alyss finished the question with a flourish of her hand. The stone buttoned up behind them, the wall smoothing out.

“You have a point,” Eira admitted. “But tunneling will take a lot longer so it’ll be more time for them to sense your magic.”

Alyss hummed in slight agreement.

“We leave like we entered,” Eira decided. “In small groups. Heads down and unassuming.”

“They’ll realize I’m gone soon,” Allun said with a note of severity. “Even bound as I was, they still checked on me often.” A bitter smile graced her lips briefly. “They knew what they had.”

“Then we go now.” Eira glanced around at her friends; they all gave slight nods. “Nothing flashy, no heroes. Allun is with Cullen and me. Exit as we entered.”

Alyss and Yonlin went ahead, quickly disappearing through the side alleyways and onto a major street. With a pulse of magic, Ducot scurried up Olivin’s side to perch on his shoulder. The two of them went in the opposite direction, quickly turning to walk parallel to Yonlin and Alyss.

“Morphi,” Allun hummed. “A rare people. Hunted nearly to extinction.” Her tone turned serious. “A fate too many in Carsovia can relate to.”

“Oh?” Eira dared to ask. It might not be a particularly wise conversation. But walking too stiff and silent wasn’t wise, either.

“We’ve an expression in Carsovia: The Empress sings, and the people are in harmony. Errant voices disrupt the chorus,” she recited, pausing to blink up at the sun as it flashed briefly between buildings. “What no one says is that those ‘errant voices’ are silenced.”

“Is that what you were? An ‘errant voice?’” While this rescue was going to happen regardless of what Allun said, Eira was keen to know more about the woman she was risking her neck for.

“An errant scream is more apt.” Even though the words were playful, there was a somber and almost sinister note beneath them. As if it were both a promise, and a threat.

As if summoned by the statement, a scream ripped through the otherwise dull hum of the city, the sound chilling them to the bone.

“What was that?” Cullen whispered.

“Nothing good. But nothing changes.” Eira moved slowly from the side street they’d been walking on. A line of knights rushed past them, oblivious that the people they were looking for were right beside them.

A crowd had formed at the gates. The knights were pushing the people into a line along the buildings. Eira’s eyes met a familiar cerulean pair that quickly turned stormy with worry. Olivin did little more than glance her way, but the look said a thousand words, few of them good. His attention returned to a woman who had been ripped from the group, hunched on the ground.

She wept over a man whose face was no longer there. A burst of magic had been ripped through it. Three knights loomed over her, the middle one brandishing a rifle.

“We will ask you one more time. Where did the strangers you saw in the market go?”

The woman couldn’t formulate a response. It was all ragged breaths and sobs.

“Answer me.” The knight extended the rifle. His words were calm, but the threat was obvious.

“I don’t know. I hardly even know their faces! Please, please I know nothing. Let me bury him. My?—”

The knight shifted his grip. Eira saw what was about to happen before it did. Just like she saw the silken strands of dark hair falling over the woman’s shoulders, shorter than Noelle kept hers. Her skin a fairer shade than Noelle’s. Her frame more waiflike.

But, for a horrible second, it was Noelle kneeling on the ground. Her chest exposed. The rifle pointed, primed, ready with a thumb on its trigger.

The knight almost sounded nonchalant when he spoke next. “If you don’t know then?—”

A pulse of magic. Ducot leaped from Olivin’s shoulder with a roar of rage, magic swirling in waves off of him. Eira didn’t have a chance to speak, to breathe, before he crashed against the knight and the rifle exploded.