“So we have to get out of the city,” Aphen finished. “Escape and go back into the Westland and find the Ellcrys seed.”
“But I’m not sure what happened to it!” Arling insisted.
“I am,” Cymrian said. “The couple who found you and took you to the Federation warship took it. If you don’t have it, and Edinja and her captain and crew don’t have it, then who’s left? They must have stolen it off you when they found you.”
Aphen stared at him. “Are you sure about this?”
“Process of elimination. It’s the only possibility. The man, in particular, seemed anxious to me, even before he found out Arling was your sister. He has it, all right.”
Arling looked stricken. “But I don’t know who he is. I don’t know anything about the woman, either. How will we ever find them?”
“Before we worry about that, we have to get out of this city.” Aphen put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Arling, look at me. Let me see your eyes. Are you all right now? You look exhausted.”
Cymrian had moved away from the windows and stepped behind a clothes rack to change, as well. “We’ll start by finding Rushlin and see if he has any ideas. Rovers usually know one or two tricks for getting out of tight corners.”
They found a better travel cloak for Arling, and together they moved toward the storeroom door, intent on going back out the way they had come in. They had just passed through the doorway when they saw a small, exquisitely beautiful woman with silver hair and dusky skin standing at the back door, blocking the way.
Arling gave a small cry and shrank back immediately.
“Why don’t we talk about how I can help you leave all this behind,” Edinja Orle said. “Isn’t that what you want?”
Aphen’s first impulse was to attack, but she resisted it when she saw the giant moor cat crouched off to one side. It was much too close for her to stop it from springing on them, which it would likely choose to do if she tried to attack Edinja.
“I’m not here to try to take Arling back,” the sorceress said to them. “I’m just here to talk. Listen to me, and then you can go wherever you want. I won’t try to stop you. In fact, I won’t do anything to get in your way. But I can help you get to where you want to go, which ought to make what I have to say worthwhile.”
Aphen could feel Cymrian tense next to her, so she reached out and took hold of his arm in warning. “How did you find us?” she asked Edinja.
“Cinla and I tracked you. We’re very good at that sort of thing.”
“You let Arling escape, didn’t you?”
“I gave her the opportunity so that she could lead me to you and we could have this talk. I admit that, in the beginning—weeks ago—I was looking for something entirely different from what I am looking for now. As Prime Minister of the Federation, I wanted to find a way to put pressure on the Elves to form an alliance. Or on the Druids, for that matter. But now that I know what is happening with the Forbidding, I’ve decided I need to pursue a different course of action entirely.”
“You tried to kill us!” Cymrian snapped.
She shook her head. “I did not try to kill you. Stoon tried to kill you. I sent him to find you and bring you back to me so that I could discover what you were up to. He took it upon himself to do more.”
“He had the use of your creatures, Edinja.”
“Yes, my creatures. Thieves and murderers and men who lied to me; I made them into something better. I gave him three of them for protection. He’s been terrified of Aphenglow ever since their encounter at Paranor. He insisted he needed them. How he used them was his own decision.”
“Your man tried to kill us without your permission?” Cymrian pressed incredulously. “You expect us to believe that?”
She shrugged. “That’s up to you. But I had no idea he decided to countermand my orders or that he managed to persuade the captain of my ship to be his ally. Killing you was easier than trying to bring you back alive. He just wanted you out of the way. Think about it. What would I gain by killing you? What would be the point? I have done nothing to pursue Drust Chazhul’s plans for Paranor since his death. I have kept away from the Druid’s Keep because it does not belong to me. It belongs to the Druids, and I respect that. So what would I achieve by inflicting any sort of harm on you?”
“I don’t believe you,” Cymrian declared, making a dismissive gesture.
“You could have known about the Ellcrys,” Aphen said.
Edinja made a face. “Assuming for a moment I knew about Arling’s purpose on your voyage, why would I want to interfere? Why would I want to take Arling prisoner when she is the only one who can save us? From the very beginning of my involvement, Aphenglow was the one I wanted to reach.”
“So you sent assassins to Arborlon to try to kill me?” Aphen snapped.
“Assassins? I don’t know anything about any assassins. I didn’t send anyone to Arborlon. As for the Ellcrys, I didn’t know anything about that until Arling was in my bedroom, recovering.” She pointed at Arling. “Tell them. Do you think I knew anything about the Ellcrys before you told me?”
Arling hesitated. “No, I don’t think you did.”
“When I had you in my care, did I do anything to hurt you?”
“You drugged me.”
“So that you would tell me the truth, which you weren’t going to do otherwise, were you?”
“You could have just let me go.”
“So that you could disappear and I would never know what happened? I couldn’t allow that. I needed to keep you with me long enough to let you lead me to your sister. I admit I tricked you. I admit I used you. But only because I couldn’t get the answers I needed otherwise. None of you were going to listen to me.”
Aphenglow was beginning to see a modicum of reason in Edinja’s arguments, which was troubling. Even worse, she was also beginning to hope that the sorceress was telling the truth so that she would help them find a way out of the city.
“You could have just asked me to come see you,” she tried.
Edinja laughed. “Oh, and you would have come right over? After my predecessor tried to have Paranor seized and the Druid order disbanded? Why would you trust me? Why would you have anything at all to do with me?”
Aphen did not have an answer.
Edinja made a dismissive gesture. “None of that matters now, in any case. What matters is that the Forbidding is down and the demons are loose and most of them seem to be gathered right outside the gates of Arishaig. This is my city, and as Prime Minister it is my responsibility to protect it. All this has changed my thinking about what has to happen next. I need Arling to find the Ellcrys seedling and do what she must to put the demons back where they belong. So I want you to forget about everything you think you know about me or you think I am responsible for, and concentrate your efforts on saving us all.”
The Elessedil sisters and Cymrian looked at each other doubtfully. “So you really intend to help us?” Aphen asked.
Edinja nodded. “I said I did, and I meant it. I will provide you with a fast airship—one that will get you past the dragon and the other flying things that are waiting out there. I will put you aboard and send you on your way because I am depending on you to save my people and this city. And because the Elves are also at risk. Everyone in the Four Lands faces extinction if we don’t lock the demonkind back within the Forbidding.”
“Do you intend to accompany us?” Cymrian asked suddenly.
Edinja laughed again. “I wondered when you would get around to asking that. In other circumstances, I would insist on it. But a Prime Minister of the Federation can’t be seen abandoning her capital city when it’s under attack. A Prime Minister is expected to stand or fall with her people.”
“And you don’t intend to send any of your creatures with us, do you?” Arling pressed.
“They would be of little use. I could give you a warship and a captain and crew, but that would just make you a more visible target. I
think it best if just the three of you go. Don’t you agree?”
Aphen nodded. “But what do you want in return for this? You. personally?”
“You don’t think a promise that you will do what you can to save the entire world is enough for me?” Edinja snorted derisively. “All right. When this is over, maybe you might consider making a visit so we can talk face-to-face, perhaps find common ground. I am not Drust Chazhul. I am not seeking to destroy the Druid order or gain power over the other Races. I am looking for a way to build the sorts of bridges that Drust Chazhul could never have envisioned on the best day of his life. That will be satisfaction enough for me.”
A momentary silence followed. “All right,” Aphen agreed. “Show us the aircraft we will be flying, and we’ll be on our way.”
Aphenglow Elessedil did not for one solitary second believe that Edinja Orle was telling her the truth. At least, not all of it. Enough to convince the Elves that she had their best interests at heart, maybe, but not enough to give away her real plan, whatever it was. The problem was, she could not divine what was behind the sorceress’s willingness to help them, and she could not afford to refuse that help when it was exactly what they needed. Too much was at stake not to accept the offer of an airship that would give them swift transportation back to the Westland where they could resume their search for the missing Ellcrys seed.
So with Arling and Cymrian in tow, she followed the Federation Prime Minister out of the shop and back through the city streets toward the grounds and buildings where the Coalition Council kept its quarters. Cinla disappeared shortly after they set out and did not reappear. They encountered only one blockade and a handful of soldiers on their way. The city streets were mostly empty.
“We bypass most of the barricades and soldiers going this way,” Edinja declared at one point. “No sense involving them. They’ll have questions, and I don’t want to have to provide them with answers. This matter is between us.”
In short order they reached the housing and administration buildings set aside for the needs of the members of the Coalition Council, but Edinja kept going. Down a side street and behind the official grounds, she led them into the cavernous interior of a warehouse-sized building where a pair of sleek Sprints sat side by side on a landing pad. They were big machines, each able to carry five or six, their design unfamiliar to either Aphen or Cymrian.
“This should convince you I am serious,” she said. “These are prototypes. No one has them but myself and the military high command. They are a carefully guarded secret, and no one outside a handful of Southlanders has seen them. You will be the first. Have a look.”
Cymrian gave the nearest vessel a quick once-over, walking around it, examining its parse tubes and hoods, radian draws, and light sheaths, which were folded up on deck and ready to be hoisted. Then he climbed into the pilot box and examined the control mechanisms. Finally, he roamed the gunwales studying the weapons attached to the railings on both sides.
“She’s beautiful,” he announced when he was done. “I have trouble believing you are prepared to give her to us.”
“I’m not giving her to you; I am loaning her.” Edinja’s eyes were fixed on Aphenglow. “I want her back when this is over.”
Aphen nodded. “Fair enough.” She paused. “How long do you think the army can hold out against this attack?”
Edinja shrugged. “Maybe three more days.”
“Have you sent for help?”
“The other cities need to look out for themselves.”
“From the Borderlands, then?”
The Federation Prime Minister looked away. “You should get under way. It is possible the demons know the bearer of the Ellcrys seed is inside these walls. It might even explain the reason for their attacking us.”
She walked away from them, her robes wrapped tightly around her small frame, her head up. She moved over to a wall where a huge wheel worked a series of pulleys. When she began turning the wheel, the roof slid open to reveal a sky filling rapidly with clouds.
“Climb aboard,” Cymrian called down to the sisters. “Let’s do what she says.”
Aphen helped Arling aboard, and they settled themselves into deep cushioned seats set to one side of the open cockpit. Restraining straps were provided, and they buckled themselves in. Cymrian took charge of the controls, powered up the aircraft, and engaged the thrusters.
Aphen glanced over one last time at Edinja Orle, but she was looking down and didn’t seem to notice.
Seconds later they were airborne. Rising through the open roof into the deepening gray of the late-afternoon sky, they encountered the stink of burned oil and flesh borne on the wind. Then, abruptly, it began to rain, and Cymrian swung the nose of their craft west, pushed the thrusters forward, and left Arishaig behind.
Late afternoon found Keeton exhausted and discouraged. The battle for Arishaig had resumed shortly after the march around the walls by the Jarka Ruus, and it had not yet ceased. Nor did he think it would until they were all dead. He no longer doubted this was inevitable. The demonkind were too numerous and too powerful to be stopped by the city’s defenders. He no longer believed there was any hope.
The beginning of the end had come earlier in the day. The massing of the demon hordes and their slow circling of the walls had been exactly what Keeton had suspected it might be—a feint to draw attention away from the real attack. The latter came shortly afterward, a fresh enemy army appearing abruptly from behind the ridgeline and launching a full frontal attack on the west wall and its already weakened gates. Both Keeton and Sefita had been ready for this, their soldiers on the ramparts and airmen aboard the warships armed and ready to respond. Unit commanders had been dispersed to their positions and orders to stand and hold issued to one and all. What else could they do, after all? The last of the oil was poured into the ditches and lit, the flash rips that had been mounted in a makeshift fashion atop the walls were brought quickly into play, and the vast armament of both waiting warships was turned broadside to repel the attack.
The effort had been successful. Although the creatures from the Forbidding pressed forward through flames and cannon fire and the launching of numerous steel-tipped missiles, the combined might of Federation military air and land forces had eventually thrown them back. It didn’t happen right away and it didn’t happen easily, but it did happen.
The problem was that this didn’t put even a temporary end to things; it simply served as a prelude. Because now the demon army was positioned both east and west, and the moment the west force went into retreat, the east force attacked. This was the bigger of the two armies and the one to which the larger task had been appointed—to destroy the Federation landing platforms and their moored vessels.
Keeton, standing with the defenders on the west wall, didn’t have a chance to assess its purpose firsthand and missed any chance to do so while there was still time. To those defending on the east it appeared this was just a further effort to break down the gates of the city. But it quickly became apparent that the thrust of the assault was not against the gates or even the east wall, but against the ramparts that protected the landing platforms at the southeast corner of the city. The hordes initially attacked the gates in waves, but quickly swerved off toward the platforms. Winged creatures returned in droves, dropping attackers that swarmed the defenses and quickly ignited whatever would burn. The warships were mostly aloft, but those that weren’t went up in flames along with skiffs, flits, and dozens of others. Only the transports, housed within barns deep inside the city and still out of view, were spared.
Virtually every airship sitting out on the platforms was destroyed, and the platforms themselves were so badly damaged they could not be used for landing without posing a danger to the ships and crews attempting to do so. The attack was swift and purposeful, and—once the intended result was accomplished—it broke off and retreated from sight.
That was when Keeton, consulting with Sefita Rayne and a handful of ground commanders, made
the decision to begin evacuating the city. The Coalition Council was in disarray, its members scattered. Many had already left in private airships, fleeing for the safety of other cities. Many had simply gone to ground. No one seemed to be in charge. Edinja Orle was still missing, although there were rumors that she had flown to Wayford and Dechtera to seek additional support for the Federation’s capital city. Whatever the case, members of the military were making all of the decisions by now, and Keeton was still their commander in chief.
The decision to evacuate was arrived at easily enough, however. With the transports still intact, there was no reason not to remove as many of more vulnerable residents as possible, beginning with women and children and the sick and elderly. The city was in imminent danger of falling, and those trapped within were unlikely to survive what happened afterward. With warships available to act as escorts, saving those who could be saved was a choice that met with unanimous approval.
The loading of the carriers had begun at once, and transport had been under way ever since. The vessels would convey as many passengers as possible to one of the nearby cities and then return for more. Warships would act as escorts, and keep careful watch for airborne attackers—especially the dragon.
But now sunset was approaching, and the transports had been active all day. No further attacks of any sort had been made. What remained of the army had been divided by commands and dispersed to positions that would allow for at least limited defense of all four walls and a chance for overlap where it became needed. The warships not acting as escorts to the transports continued to patrol the air overhead, keeping watch against surprise attacks.
Not that Keeton believed there would be any. The next attack would come at nightfall, when the light was gone and the new moon rendered the landscape black and impenetrable, and there would be nothing surprising about it. It would include all of the remaining creatures, and they would sweep across the walls and into the city, and that would be the end of Arishaig.